Long Holiday

As we walked back to my Range-Rover, hand in hand, Maureen said:

"My idea of having you shadow me didn't work too well this afternoon, did it? You got me into trouble, even if you did get me out of it again. Tomorrow afternoon I was going to take you to the Cathedral. I help out in the shop. I suppose you know the Bishop?"

"Bishop? No." I replied. "He's a recent appointment. I do know the Dean. Is that good enough?"

Maureen pretended to hit me.

"Seriously? You know the Dean?"

"Sorry, Maureen, yes. Do you know why?"

"No. Should I?"

"He's a younger son of the family who own The Hall. I've met him a few times this year, and my company helped the Cathedral's Finance Officer with last year's audit of accounts."

As we drove off Maureen was very quiet as if she was thinking hard. Suddenly she said:

"Paul, if you know so many important people, why were you going to the Library? The Dean would probably want you to help at the Cathedral, and other people you know want skilled volunteers. Why didn't..."

"...because that would be just like continuing my work," I interrupted, "and the danger is that I might get back to being a workaholic, but unpaid. I wanted something different, something new I could enjoy but something that would not become an obsession."

"What do you enjoy, Paul?"

"That's a difficult question. I enjoyed my work but it was stressful. I haven't a real idea of what else I might enjoy. No. That's not true. I'm enjoying your company, Maureen."

"That's a start. I don't think I want to take you to the Cathedral tomorrow. I'll cancel my stint there. I'm not an essential volunteer there. We will have a whole day, just you and me."

"To do what?" I asked.

"To be together, to go somewhere neither of us have been. Any suggestions?"

"Not at the moment, Maureen, just a question. Where are we going now? I'm driving back to town. Am I driving to your house, to mine, or somewhere else?"

"Back to the park, please. The tea kiosk will still be open. We can feed the ducks again and make plans for tomorrow."

"The park it is. I'll go to the other side from the High Street, to the free car park."

At the park we bought some duck food and tea in plastic mugs. The ducks made conversation impossible until all the food had gone.

We dropped the empty plastic cups in a litter bin and started walking around the lake.

"How good are you at walking, Paul?" Maureen asked suddenly.

"I am limited," I admitted. "I could walk two or three miles at most. Any more than that and my back would be painful. Practice wouldn't make that any better. If I wanted to walk a distance every day, a mile would be enough."

"That reduces the possibilities for tomorrow. Does your back limit any other activities?"

"Flying any distance would be impractical, Maureen. Airline seats aren't designed for injured backs, and the whole airport experience might be too much. Public transport? Again it could be for a short distance -- a Park and Ride bus perhaps, or a reasonable train such as EuroStar to Lille if I went First Class. Driving? In my Range Rover I can manage about 200 miles in a day, but not day after day..."

"In bed?" Maureen squeezed my hand and winked at me.

"I don't know," I replied seriously. "I haven't tried since the accident. I'm sure I couldn't 'sleep' sharing a bed, if sleep was intended. I move around too much trying to get comfortable. I can't hold one position for more than an hour, even when asleep. I would be an impossible sleeping partner."

"You mean you haven't, not since Rita?" Maureen sounded shocked.

I turned and looked at her.

"Who would have wanted me?" I asked. "A damaged workaholic who was rarely home. I was no one's ideal partner."

"Then there is something we can share. Come on. The High Street shops are still open. You can buy some protection. We'll explore the limits of your possibilities in bed."

Maureen swung her free arm around me to hug and kiss me. I couldn't turn her down. She dragged me into the large Chemist's shop and put a dozen packs of condoms in the basket I was carrying. I paid but she used her loyalty card for the points. The bored cashier didn't seem to notice my acute embarrassment.

Outside the shop Maureen hugged me again, and her hand in mine pulled me back into the park, past the lake, ignoring the insistent ducks.

"Your house first," Maureen ordered. "I want to check out the possibilities. For all I know you might be a messy bachelor."

"I'm not!" I protested. "Anyway, my cleaner wouldn't let me make a mess and ruin her work."

"You have a cleaner? Who? Should I be jealous of her?"

"Yes, I have a cleaner, who comes twice a week," I said heavily. "She's Jackie, the daughter of one of our old friends. She's cleaning for me to help her University costs. She's decades too young to be a threat. I've known her and her family since she was a toddler. She regards me as an ancient, older than her grandfather. That doesn't stop her from telling me off if I leave things around in her way."

"Does she have a key?"

"Yes. She comes on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, a couple of hours each time. She doesn't have lectures those mornings."

"Is she ever likely to come at a different time? That could be embarrassing."

"No, Maureen. If Jackie has to change her times she gives me a couple of days' warning. Up to now that hasn't really mattered because my house had been empty every weekday. But she and I insisted that she shouldn't use her key except at the set times. She had a problem with a previous family with a student son. She came on a different day, had told the parents, but they hadn't told their son. She found him in bed with another male student, both naked. All three of them were embarrassed, particularly as the son hadn't admitted to his parents that he was gay."

"What happened?"

"Jackie promised not to mention it, but a neighbour had noticed that there were three young people in the house at once, and mentioned it casually to the parents. The parents thought their son had been fucking Jackie when they were paying her for cleaning. They accused her and she resented it. Even after their son admitted the truth, she felt she couldn't continue after the hurtful things that had been said."

"I can understand how she felt. That must have been awful."

"She was also upset because she needed the money. Her parents knew that my former cleaner had retired and contacted me. Jackie and I met, and I've found the arrangement very convenient. We have rarely seen each other but I have been delighted with her standard of work. You can see for yourself."

We had arrived at my house. Maureen and I walked to the front door. She looked at the front garden.

"Do you have a gardener as well?"

"Yes," I said as I opened the front door. "He's really retired but still does work for a few favoured customers -- those who paid him promptly."

Maureen walked into the hall. She looked around critically.

"Follow me for the guided tour," I said.

We went into the living room, the dining room and the breakfast room. I could see that Maureen was appreciating how clean and tidy everything was. Even in the kitchen I had put my breakfast items in the dishwasher.

Upstairs the spare bedrooms were as clean and tidy as usual. My bed was pulled back to air, and my pyjamas were neatly folded. Until Jackie started cleaning, my pyjamas might have been in a heap, but when I found them neatly folded after her first clean, I decided that she shouldn't have to do that.

Maureen sat on edge of the bed. She seemed to approve.

Maureen commented on the cleanliness of the ensuite bathroom and the family bathroom.

"Your cleaner Jackie seems to be very professional." She said. "I wish all cleaners were like her. Some local companies charge the earth for a poor service."

"Jackie is that overworked word -- a treasure," I said.

"I agree," Maureen said. "But -- I think we should go to my place, not here."

"Any specific reason?"

"Yes. If we were here, I'd have to move to a spare bedroom during the night. In my bedroom I have the main bed and a single bed, from the time a great-aunt used to stay with us. She needed watching at night because she might sleepwalk. The single is new, unused. We had been using an old bed from the spare bedroom but bought a new one after she complained it was lumpy on her last visit. She never came back, dying in her sleep at her sheltered accommodation, so the new bed just stayed. I use it sometimes just to spread clothing when I'm sorting my wardrobe."

"That sounds good to me. We could sleep in peace."

"OK. Grab those pyjamas, your toothbrush and whatever, and come to visit me. Now!"

I grabbed.

I drove the few hundred yards to her house and parked on her drive, next to her small car.

Maureen made coffee in her kitchen. We took the mugs upstairs to her bedroom. It was smaller than mine but the single bed was against a wall, next to the door to the small ensuite bathroom that had originally been a dressing room when the house had been built in the 1890s.

We sat beside each other on the double bed drinking the coffee. I was unsure what to do next. We were in her bedroom, together. My sponge bag, spare clothing and the bag of unopened precautions were on the bedside table.

Maureen took my empty mug and put it beside hers on a dressing table.

"Shoes off, please, Paul," she asked.

I took my shoes off.

"Good. No holes in your socks."

"Why, Maureen? Should there be?"

"Of course not. I was joking."

She kissed me and pulled me gently on to the bed. I swung my legs up as she sat beside me, kicking her shoes off. She unbuttoned my shirt and helped as I took it off. She lifted her top over her head to show an attractive bra. She put her hands behind her back to unfasten it, but stopped.

"Ready?" She asked.

"For what?" I responded.

"To see some ancient saggy tits?"

"They don't look ancient, nor saggy."

She unfastened her bra and took it off. Her breasts drooped a little. Why not? Neither of us are youngsters. Those breasts looked great to me. I reached out a hand to cradle one. It was soft, natural, warm and very inviting. Maureen looked anxious, as if she was worried I would reject her. I moved my head to kiss both her erect nipples, slowly and gently.

Maureen straddled me with her breasts poised above my face. She lowered herself so I could continue kissing her nipples. Suddenly she squashed a breast across my mouth and nose. I enjoyed that for a few seconds but had to use a hand to clear an airway to my nose.

"Can't breathe?" she asked.

I couldn't answer. Her breast was still covering my mouth. I opened it. Maureen stuffed her nipple in followed by much of her breast. I could breathe through my nose but still couldn't answer her question.

I could suck and nibble. I did. Maureen arched her back and almost purred as I explored the mouthful. After a few minutes she changed breasts. I was enjoying myself and she seemed pleased too.

"What else can you do, Paul?" she asked. I was still breast-gagged but I pointedly moved my eyes downwards.

"You're sure?"

I nodded, dragging her breast slightly.

"We'll see," she said.

She lifted her breast from my mouth, reached under her skirt, and pulled her panties down and off. She tossed them in the direction of the dressing table. They were a sensible full shape but flashed like satin as they flew through the air.

Maureen moved up my body and put her knees either side of my head. I was looking up inside her skirt. I could see bare thighs and a hint of lips above. She hitched the skirt and waist slip up as she lowered herself.

I kissed the inside of both thighs as they came slowly downwards. Maureen's skin was wonderfully smooth and my lips slid across as her pussy came closer and closer.

Her legs spread wider and my lips met warm wet pussy, wonderfully scented female skin. I kissed and licked as she became warmer and looser. My tongue eased its way gently between her lips, fighting against her weight as she relaxed above me.

My hands reached up blindly towards her breasts. I couldn't see them because her skirt and slip had completely covered my head. Her hands caught mine and directed them. She held them to her breasts as I stroked, squeezed and kneaded.

I could feel that she was nearly reaching a peak. I kept my tongue and hands busy. I was aware that she was making appreciative noises above me even though my hearing was muffled by her soft thighs.

Maureen became even noisier as she shuddered into the first orgasm, clamping her thighs hard around my head and grinding her pussy over my face.

I wasn't sure how much I could take before running out of breath. She lifted herself just before I had to choose between suffocation or pushing her away.

She slumped down on me for about thirty seconds as I slowly licked around her warm wetness. Her hands pushed mine harder on to her breasts and I started arousing her again.

By the time Maureen had finished a long series of orgasms I was becoming tired. After all, it was a decade since I had pussy-licked a woman and I was out of practice. She seemed to sense that I had reached my limit. She lifted herself, unwrapped my head, and slid down beside me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"That was great, Paul," she whispered. "but what about you?"

"I need a rest," I admitted. "I'm out of practice."

"Out of practice? I've never had anyone that good. What would you be like when you're in practice?"

"You'll have to wait to find out, won't you, Maureen?"

She pretended to slap me.

"A coffee break before I try to satisfy you?" she suggested.

"Perhaps a meal break might be better. We have all night to practice, haven't we?"

"Yes, Paul, we have. All night, and tomorrow and tomorrow..."

"I think I might enjoy getting into practice for this new activity. After all, today is only the first of my long holiday, and the first with an old friend who has become more than a friend."

And so it was. Maureen and I enjoyed each other's company out and about and in bed for the next four weeks of my official holiday.

I celebrated the first day of my official retirement by proposing to her. She accepted. The holiday was over, and a new life could begin.