Sunday, 14 October 2012

An Antidote To Writers Block (Part 26) Frankie Pankie

I had mixed emotions after my epic fail with Pandora,
On one hand I was elated after an astonishing carnal interlude with the adorable Pandy while on the other, being heartily depressed about only managing to keep my wick dry for two days.
After some deliberation in the days following my fall from grace I came to the conclusion that going cold turkey was probably not the most sensible course of action and I was probably more likely to succeed if I just cut down a bit.
I was still resolved to my long-term goal of monogamy with Georgia but there was a long road to travel and the occasional diversion was inevitable.
In between my deliberations regarding my suitability as a life partner; I kept my self out of trouble by catching up on my writing schedule. I managed to crack off almost three chapters based around my romp with Pandora.
The only downside with writing about an actual event, particularly one that was so incredibly sensuous, is that it is so vivid and so arousing that you just want to do it again, right away.
On such occasions it was sometimes necessary to employ self-abuse.

By Friday the weather had finally cleared up and according to the met office we were in for a prolonged spell of warm, dry days, a proper Indian summer.
I wasn’t holding my breath, I had little faith that they could manage to predict the weather for 3 weeks hence when they struggle forecast with any certainty what will happen that afternoon.
Still enjoy it while it lasts was my philosophy which applied to almost everything in my life, sex included.
Friday was gardening day, and so by extension it was also Frankie day.
Frankie Carpenter was my gardener; a big chested thirty something ginger gardener with a great unruly shock of ginger hair.
Not at first glance an obvious choice for my advances you might say and ordinarily I would have to agree with you.
I started to fancy her though after I discovered she had hairy armpits which for some reason really turned me on.
I extrapolated that hairy armpits and an unruly mass of hair equaled the prospect of a very hairy ginger growler.
However I wasn’t sure if under her dungarees she had hairy legs or not, I’m not a fan of hairy legs, it’s not a turn off, but it doesn’t excite me.
I did draw the line at hairy nipples though.
I had a close encounter once in the stock room with a girl called Pat, she had hairy nipples and it almost ruined my Christmas.
Frankie is quite a muscular unit about 5ft 10 probably not the most agile of partners I suspected and she would not be easy to maneuver but I estimated she would not be left wanting in the stamina department.
So it was while I was staring through the window watching the robust Frankie Carpenter bent over a planter with her dungarees stretched tight across her well divined buttocks, thinking to myself that I would love to have a crack at that when the phone rang and I was still wondering if I would be able to impress her with my dibber when I said
“Hello” I was still staring at the buxom ginger haired horticulturist, and thought her hair was a little less unruly than usual.
“Simon?” asked a woman’s voice
“Yes that’s me” I replied
“It’s Katy” she said “Katy Oliver”
“Hello Vicar” I said, preferring to think of her as the Vicar rather than as a woman so I wouldn’t be tempted to shag her.
“What can I do for you?”
“I know its short notice but...” she hesitated
“I can’t answer if you don’t ask”
“Would you mind temporarily taking Eleanor Overend's place on the church committee,” She asked, “we are fast approaching the harvest festival and well…”
“Of course, when do you need me?”
“Ten minutes” she said hopefully
“Ok” I said, “I’ll leave now”
I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.

It would be nice to get out of the house and end my self-imposed exile and as I stepped out into the sunlight I found Frankie was bent over pulling at a particularly stubborn weed I stood for a moment admiring her amply round derriere.
It offered me the ideal opportunity for a grope so I deviated from my route and I grabbed a handful of her arse.
This was all the more stimulating as I was on the phone to the vicar at the time.
“Ok vicar I’ll see you shortly” I said before disconnecting
Normally Frankie would jump straight up and punch me but today she didn’t.
I remember thinking that was curious at the time.
“Morning Simon” she said still pulling at the weed
“Hi Frankie” I said still holding her bum cheek.
“Were you going somewhere?” she asked
“Yes the Vicarage” I said, absent-mindedly fondling her arse
I suddenly thought I need to stop and I reluctantly let go and she stood up.
“Where’s Maisie?” I asked
“Victoria has taken her up to London shopping” she replied
“She was very excited; she’s talked of nothing else all week”
As we talked I stood there giving her a thorough appraisal, the most noticeable thing once my gaze left her breasts was that she was wearing makeup, something I had never noticed before.
“You’d better go then” she said and smiled
“Ok see you later” I said breaking into a jog.

Once I was out of sight I slowed to a walk and pondered on what had occurred.
She didn’t hit me when I grabbed her arse,
She didn’t tell me to stop,
Or tell me to piss off,
Call me a lecherous git
Or wish me dead
And further more she smiled
She’d let me grab her arse; She’d tidied her hair, applied some slap and smiled at me.
That was completely out of character
Perhaps she was using psychology on me maybe this was just a ploy to throw me off guard
Or maybe I’d warn her down.
Anyway I made my way to the Vicarage and I looked forward to having another crack at my ginger prey next week.
I had been trying to get inside Frankie’s dungarees all year and had been knocked back every time.
At first glance she’s not an obvious choice for my advances, not an obvious candidate for my lust with Frankie being a bit of big chunky unit.
But with great-unfettered breasts and a shock of untamed red hair with armpits to match I found her strangely attractive.
It’s certainly not an "any port in a storm" situation I’m really not that shallow.
No I’m not a shallow person at all; I am a pervert that is beyond doubt.
Maybe the fact that she kept repelling my advances added to her allure, playing hard to get.
But every Friday I have tried to cop a feel of her ample unfettered tits and every Friday I have been thwarted.
However the more she resists the more I try to break that resistance.
As Sean Connery famously once said never say never.

The Church committee meeting lasted just over an hour; it was really just a reallocation of responsibilities.
Eleanor Overend whose shoes I was temporarily filling had to step down for a while.
Her husband Gerry, who had been ill for sometime had suddenly taken a turn for the worse and it was a distinct possibility he might not recover.

As I tramped back home through the woods thoughts reminding nu of my own mortality accompanied me on my journey and kind of put things in perspective and emphasized how petty my trials and weaknesses were.
As I reached my back garden I noticed all was not as I expected it to be, there were piles of weeds, discarded tools, and a wheelbarrow sitting in the middle of my lawn.
I couldn’t believe Frankie would go home and leave it in such a mess; I didn’t know what had gotten into her.

Then I spied Frankie in the garage and at first I was of a mind to read her the riot act but I opted instead to adopt a different tack and with great stealth I stalked my Ginger prey, who was bent salaciously, however unintentionally, over a lawnmower.
And as she stood up from her toil I slipped my hands inside her dungarees and aimed straight for her unfettered globes and past the point at which she normally thwarted me until I held the unrestrained prizes, feeling their exquisite weight.
“I thought your boyfriend wouldn’t like it?” I said as I squeezed her tits and kissed her neck.
“He’s not going to get it” she replied and pushed her arse against the growing bulge in my jeans.
She turned her head towards me and I bent to kiss her,
As our tongues became engaged I reluctantly released my grip on her jugs and slipped the braces of her dungarees off her shoulders and they fell to the ground with a clunk.
I stopped kissing her and we exchanged a look.
“Trowel” she said and thrust her tongue back in my mouth
Now I slipped my hands inside her tee shirt and roughly groped at her naked globes and teased her huge hairless nipples.
Frankie showed no sign of relinquishing my tongue so my right hand travelled south across her plump belly to her well pruned bush, it was still lush but not the wild beaver I had expected.
She was still rubbing the cheeks of arse against my bulge and managed to get a cheek either side of it so the lump in my trousers was rubbing up and down her bum crack.
She began moaning in my mouth at first softly but growing louder as my finger left her well trimmed shrubbery and I slipped them into her lathery trim.
Minutes later she could no longer sustain the marathon kiss and stood head back moaning uncontrollably like a wolf howling at the moon
I didn’t have to apply my digits for long before I creamed her till she came.
With her dungarees around her ankles I steered her penguin like towards the bench and bent her over it.
The big knickers of which I had had so many tantalizing glimpses over the past few months were the only thing between her ginger pussy and me.
I took a moment to look at the big blue pants cladding her buttocks and could plainly see the slowly growing dark patch.
I grabbed the waistband with both hands and yanked them off her arse as the gussets came away from her it sounded like a plaster being removed.
My cock was fit to burst through the denim if I hadn’t undone the zip.
Frankie was resting on her elbows as I grabbed her round hips and in one easy movement I penetrated her and judging by her vocal response very much to her satisfaction
I smiled as I thought to myself that I knew then what had gotten into her, it was me, right up to my balls.
She came up off her elbows and had her palms against the garage wall to brace herself.
This left her magnificent tits swinging so I cupped them as I pounded on her creamy pussy, the sound of her arse cheeks slapping against my belly was like applause.
So I pounded harder and faster.
The applause grew.
Her vocalizing grew
The pace grew
The wobble of her tits grew
Until to rapturous applause and what sounded like whale calls we both came.
And there she was Frankie, the Ginger gardener, with my twitching cock inside her and her big bulbous breasts in my hands.
We both let out a sigh as I eventually withdrew from her.

After we had redressed ourselves I went in the house and got a couple of cans of beer from the fridge.
I watched as Frankie gathered all her tools together and I smiled as I watched her walking with a strange open gait obviously suffering with sticky knickers.
When she had everything back in her van she came in the kitchen, took off her boots and sat at the table.
I handed her a beer.
“So how did I finally wear you down?” I asked
“You didn’t” Frankie replied
“What”? I said disbelievingly “Something changed”
“Something did,” she said enigmatically
“I broke up with my boyfriend,” she said sadly
“Why?” I asked
“Well not because of you” she said sharply “if that’s what you’re thinking”
“I...” but she waved away my protests
“He was playing away” she said bitterly “all the while I was being faithful and beating you away with a stick when I really wanted to fuck your brains out; he was shagging some slutty barmaid”
“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely
“I don’t know why you’re sorry” she said, “You got what you wanted”
“So did you” I corrected her
“Well just don’t think this is going to become a regular thing, it was only revenge sex” Frankie lied
“How many times was he unfaithful?” I asked
“Twice” she replied, a puzzled look on her face “why”
“Well if you want an eye for an eye you’re still one shag short” I informed her
She stood up and climbed out of her dungarees and pulled her tee shirt off over her head and Frankie the gardener stood in my kitchen her bulbous breasts hanging naked and unrestrained.
While wearing only work socks and big blue knickers, which were more wet than dry, waiting for her seconds.

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