Entertaining at Large Ch. 05

'Feeling better?'

'A bit. I'm sorry about this.'

I was feeling even more ashamed than a few minutes before. Mr J was being so assiduous in his care I made more of an effort to be sociable.

'I haven't been as drunk as this since I was a kid. I don't know what came over me.'

'You were just excited, no doubt. It's Xmas. One thing led to another?'

'Got it in one. And you've tasted George's beer.'

'Strong stuff.'

I nodded and was pleased my head stayed in one place. It was then I remembered my other parcel. I pulled it and the accompanying card from my. The shape betrayed a cheap box of chocolates and investigation proved my speculations correct. I guessed one of the punters down at the Crown was starting a fan club. I opened the card, a reproduction of an Edwardian pin-up, and was surprised when thirty pounds fluttered out of it. Partly because of the beer and mostly because of the appalling hand writing, I could not make head nor tail of the contents. I flapped it at Mr J.

'Read this for me will you, please.'

'Is it written in code? Even I've got neater writing than this.'

"Probably from one of George's engineers.'

'"Dear Suzette, I hope this card is appropriate".'

He turned it over to look at the picture and nodded appreciatively.

'Not bad I suppose. "You didn't ask for my credit card details last night, so I have enclosed a small sum I hope covers your services"... what have you been up to young lady?'

He looked at me with mock sternness but his expression soon broke in to a grin.

'"I look forward to seeing you on the fifteenth, but would love to 'talk' again on the phone. I shall forward you the details when I have them."'

I groaned and held my head in my hands. I could feel myself going red.

'"Much love, Matt." There also appear to be a number of kisses here too. The "talk" was in inverted commas by the way.'

Mr J could barely stop himself laughing. I glared at him from between my fingers. I bowed my head, hands sill covering my eyes, and told him about my conversation with Matt after I left his house that evening. His laughter eventually burst out in a no-longer suppressed torrent. It went on for so long I eventually raised my head and removed my hands so that he could see that I was not amused. It only seemed to make him laugh more. I tried to stamp my foot on the floor to indicate my anger, but banged my knee against the table leg. It hurt.

'Ow, ow, ow. I think I might have broken something.'

That just seemed to make him laugh more, but he did come round the table and rest a hand on my shoulder. I was still feeling cross with him, but mostly very, very silly.

'I blame that Tracy with all her "they like a bit of chat". The bastard thinks I'm a tart.'

I felt him squeeze my shoulder harder in sympathy -- I hoped -- as he struggled to bring his laughter under control.

'He thinks Suzette is a tart, not you darling. And I suspect that might have been the impression she was trying to give him. So well done.'

I harrumphed. It's something people in PG Wodehouse books do. For the past half-hour or so I had been experiencing a growing physical discomfort that I could not quite identify, though somehow if was very familiar. Then it struck me. I needed the toilet, and quick.

'I'm going for a wee. I'll deal with you later.'

I stood up rather too quickly making my head swim again; I got a shooting pain from my knee as well. Trying to steady myself on the back of the chair and reach down to rub the painful area proved too much and I slumped back into the chair. I felt like crying.

'Here, let me help you.'

Mr J placed a firm hand under my elbow and eased me slowly to my feet. He pulled up the knee of my trainers and scrutinised my knee.

'You'll have a nasty bruise there in the morning, but it doesn't look like anything's broken.'

'What do you know.'

I was feeling resentful and sullen as I leaned on him and we made our way into the hall. There is nothing worse than been pissed and angry around someone being helpful and considerate. Especially when they're reasoning with you and you know in your heart-of-hearts that they're right.

'Stop being smug you old fool.'

'I wasn't, honestly. I'm concerned for your physical state and I shall not leave until you're safely tucked up in bed.'

He sounded a bit hurt. I didn't care. He should recognise that my bladder, my knee and my injured pride should be the only items under discussion.

'If you think you're getting in there with me you can forget it. I might let you help me have a go with those nipple clamps. But that's all.'

He gave a little chuckle. We were at the door of the downstairs loo and he was trying to keep me propped up and open the door at the same time. I was in no mood to cooperate, but in my overwhelming need to relieve myself I was trying to be flexible. We got caught in the doorway together like a pair of comedians in a silent movie. He stepped quietly back, still holding my elbow for support, and I managed to get myself seated. I remembered I was still in my knickers and sweat pants just in time. I lifted myself up, but the pain in my knee prevented me holding my weight.

'You're going to have to help me.'

I muttered through clenched teeth. I still could not see what was so funny, but was beginning to get an idea. He kneeled in front of me, all practicality.

'Put your hands on my shoulders and ease yourself up. Weight on your good leg.'

I did as I was told and felt his tugging at my pants and knickers. The gym panties I wore for football have a strong elastic waistband and it took us both quite a bit of effort until I could slump back feeling the welcoming cold of the toilet seat on my naked buttocks. We were both giggling now and I closed my eyes in relief as the stream of hot urine cascaded out. He continued to ease my clothes down until they were around my ankles.

I peed on and on and subconsciously slipped a finger into the stream and raised it to my mouth. When I realised what I was doing I opened my eyes quickly to check whether Mr J had noticed. He had a look of amazement on his face. I opened my knees.

'Want some? Better be quick I've almost finished.'

Attack is always the best form of defence. He smiled up at me, not, I noticed, taking his gaze from the stream of piss which was, at last, slowing to a dribble.

'What's so funny now?'

'I was just thinking, I'd better check my pension.'

'And that has what to do with anything?'

I was genuinely confused. That, or still more drunk than I thought.

'Well, if you're going to start charging thirty quid for someone to wank themselves off - sorry about the language - our relationship is going to cost me a fortune.'

He let out a loud bark of laughter. I found myself laughing along.

'I'm already thinking of cancelling your pensioner's discount, so don't push it.'

I stood groaning and we performed another dance to get back to the kitchen. My knee was probably not fractured I grudgingly admitted to myself but the thought of the stairs was daunting.

'I know you probably want to get off, and thanks for all your help by the way, but would you mind seeing me to bed. I don't trust myself on the stairs.'

'With pleasure.'

'Bring those will you?'

I nodded towards my new sex toys. Mr J picked them up as if he was holding something hot. I snorted. He filled another glass with water, put my hand on his shoulder and we set off. I made it up one step at a time, leaning heavily on the bannister and grateful that Mr J was behind me. I felt pretty much OK but wasn't wholly confident I wouldn't tumble. We made it to the bedroom and I fell onto the bed breathing hard.

'Come on. Sit up.'

His voice was commanding. I squinted through one eye. He was standing over me hands on his hips. He gestured me to rise.

'Arms up, that's right.'

'There's no need to rub it in.'

I giggled to myself. He might be old enough to be my dad, perhaps even my grandad, I thought, but he had fucked me, he could drop the worried parent act. I did as I was told though and was soon naked. I fell on my back again.

'Do you want a nightie or anything? Or shall I just tuck you in?'

'You'll do nothing of the sort. Pass me those nipple clamps, I'm dying to try them.'

'I really think you should leave them until tomorrow. Sleep's the best thing.'

'To quote Bertie Wooster "Pshaw and piffle".'

I wasn't sure that was correct, but it would do in the circumstances, it was a pretty good improvisation of a nineteen thirties exclamation. Mr J smiled indulgently and passed over the chained clamps. I fumbled with them for a while but eventually managed to get one into the correct position in my hand, thumb and forefinger positioned over the arms of the levers. I looked down at my boobs and only then realised that my nipples were anything but aroused. In fact, they seemed to be in agreement with Mr J and had retreated so far into the areolae that I thought for a minute they had run off.

'Come on Mr J, do your stuff will you?'

He looked sceptical and disapproving. I had to frown him into action and was a bit surprised it worked. He blew on his hands to warm them before stroking a finger over my left boob a few times and then stopping.

'Come on, matey, I haven't got all night.'

He kneaded the breast and stroked my nipple with his thumb. Somewhere inside me I felt something stir, but my nipple was still no bigger than a pimple.

'Get your mouth on it. Suck it.'

I growled and he did as I instructed. His lips felt soft and his tongue wet and warm. He sucked and nibbled, drawing as much of my boob into his mouth as he could manage and then releasing it to go to work with his tongue again. I groaned. The alcohol was still confusing my senses and I wasn't exactly sure what part of me was getting turned on, but somewhere, something was beginning to burn and I wanted more. I felt him squeezing my other breast and stroking my stomach and waist with his other hand. I started to squirm and moan.

'That's more like it. Your discount is definitely reinstated. Let's see how it's going.'

My left nipple was now pert and red. The who area around it glistened from Mr J's saliva. I tingled when I touched it.

'Great work. I knew you had it in you. Now let's try the clamp.'

I moved my hand up towards my breast and the slippy metal object promptly fell onto my chest. I scrabbled around and eventually caught hold of it again. I pushed it towards Mr J.

'Here. You're going to have to do it..'

'Do I have to? I really don't think this is a good idea.'

'Yes.'

Miss Powderpuff was back in the game. My tone was brusque. I glared at him and maintained the frown as he picked up the clamps and, after examining it thoroughly, opened the jaws and slowly advanced on me.

'Get on with it.'

Was probably not the best thing to say. He had been positioning it over the erect nipple. I could feel the soft padding on the inside of the jaws brushing the taut skin. That felt quite pleasant; what came next did not. I don't know whether it was my barked instruction, or that he was getting irritated with my attitude, but he released the clamps quickly. And didn't I know it. I screamed.

'Get it off, get it off.'

I probably said a few other things as well, in fact I'm pretty certain I did. I was suddenly sweating all over with shock. I felt like someone had driven a spike through the tip of my nipple at the same time as biting down on it. I writhed and shook with the agony. None of which helped Mr J get hold of the cause and deal with it. I was letting out bursts of little pants to try and alleviate the pain. I could feel tears in my eyes and the searing pain seemed to be getting worse. I cried out again. It felt as if someone was impaling me on a hot poker.

Mr J finally released me after placing a firm hand under my chin to stop me wriggling, and batting away my flailing hand to get a grip on the source of my discomfort. When he touched the clamp I shouted out again; fortunately he ignored me, took a firm grip and released the tension. I felt a surge of relief flow through me and I started sobbing. I sat up and threw my arms around Mr J's neck and kissed him. I cried for a moment on his shoulder while he whispered word of consolation.

Strange thing was though, that once I could focus on things other than the pain in my nipple, I noticed a not unpleasant sensation in my pussy. It was sort of glowing and sending out sympathy pains with my throbbing nipple. I stroked my clit gently; it encouraged the warm sensations and converted what I had thought of as pain into little stabs of pleasure. I inadvertently let out a soft moan.

'Well you seem to have recovered. I leave you to your games and get off home.'

'You most certainly will not.'

I was still trying to compute the mixed feelings I was getting. I was not ready for him to bow out yet. He sat down on the bed next to me and put an arm around my shoulder.

'You need to sleep it off. Take it from one who's been there.'

'I know, I know. But not yet.

I knew he was right and was certain that he meant well, but five pints of George's best beer had assassinated common sense and replaced it with stubbornness. I let Miss Powderpuff call the shots.

'We're going to try those other clamps.'

'Are you stupid. You were in agony. If you think...'

'Shut up Mr J. I'm going to do it and you're going to help. Let's have a look at them shall we?'

He stared at me as if I was mad. I returned his look with a glare. After a minute's stand-off he reached over to the bedside table and picked up the adjustable clamps. I laughed to myself both at the victory and to remind myself I needed to buy more condoms. Mr J passed me one of the toys and kept the other for himself. The slide on the contraptions moved easily closing the smooth ends on each other. I grinned at Mr J, I was still more than tipsy despite the coffee.

'I don't know whether to trust you with these.'

'My thoughts exactly.'

He made to get up.

'Sit down.'

He sat back down with a sigh.

'I want you to do it slowly. And stop if I tell you to.'

'OK.'

He sounded resigned.

'And Mr J.'

'Yes.'

'I saw your hard on when Tracy was ripping my tits off yesterday. So don't pretend you're not enjoying it.'

'I shall try my hardest.'

'Ooh, vicar.'

So it was more like a line from a Carry On movie than a Wodehouse farce, but at least he was smiling again. I eased myself back on the pillows and offered him my right breast. I shivered a little as he positioned the ends around the nipple. It was cold. I watched as he slowly eased up the slide and began to feel the slightest of pressure. He stopped when the tension was enough for the clamp to hand free unaided. I shook my shoulders and watched it bounce.

'I think a little more than that, don't you?'

He applied more pressure and I must have winced. He stopped immediately.

'Feels like it did when you were sucking me. Nice, but I think I can take some more.'

He slowly pushed the slider up until I took a sharp breath.

'That's good.'

My pussy was agreeing. The sensation I had felt coming down from the chained clamps was coming back. I handed him the other and slid my hand between my legs.

'Quickly.'

I was breathing fast and let out an involuntary cry as he tightened the tool around my left nipple. It was still sore and I arched my back as the pressure increased. Both hands on my crutch. I was impaling myself on two fingers of one hand and massaging my clitoris with the other. Pleasure as rising up my body and fighting the sensations of pain in my breasts. It was exquisite.

'More pressure.'

I could barely get the words out. His hands were shaking slightly as he took hold of the right slide. It jerked upwards and I cried out and involuntarily pushed up my torso. He made to ease it back but I stopped him with a barked order.

'And the other one.'

I was working my fingers in and out with increased vigour and could feel my orgasm building. I shrieked as the pressure on my left nipple suddenly shot up. It was almost unbearable. Almost, but not quite. I panted and strained with the effort I was making. I pushed a third finger inside myself and flexed them to increase stretch my now soaked vagina. I don't know why I did it, but I pinched my clitoris. Hard. And came almost immediately.

The pain seemed to abate with my climax, but then return almost immediately. I writhed against the bed covers pushing my arse down hard and feeling the pressure on my shoulders as my stomach, chest and breasts were forced up. I sobbed with pleasure, but as the orgasm abated the pain in my tits suddenly became unbearable.

'Take them off.'

I shouted. He was much faster this time and I experienced waves of relief as first my let nipple and then the right were freed from the steel grip. I lay back shaking and shivering as the sensitivity drained from me. I felt Mr J roll me and ease me under the duvet. He stroked my hair and I felt the pressure on the mattress drop as he stood.

'Mr J?'

'Yes, sweetie.'

'Aren't you going to give me a goodnight kiss?'

'I shall. Not that you deserve one. A spanking would be more appropriate after your behaviour this evening. But you'd probably enjoy that too.'

I giggled and raised my mouth to him. He applied pursed lips, but I grabbed his neck and thrust my tongue into his mouth. I felt his shock immobilise him, but he quickly relaxed and we enjoyed a soft and gentle embrace. I sighed contentedly and released him.

'Thank you for looking after me.'

'Any time. But let's try to make it never again shall we? There's a glass of water next to the bed if you wake up feeling dry.'

I passed into sleep so quickly I didn't even hear him leave.

When you wake up in the morning with a pain in your chest and a splitting headache, it is natural to assume you have suffered major heart problems. Isn't it? Well I certainly did. I lay there panicking and mentally distributing my worldly goods. Thankfully for the emergency services my phone was not to hand and when I sat up quickly to reach for it my swimming head and a strong feeling of nausea reminded me of the events of the night before. I groaned.

It was of course too late for regrets but I frequently said silent prayers with a true atheist's hypocrisy as I gently prepared tor work. Two glasses of water, two strong cups of coffee and a couple of paracetamol just about took the edge off things. The hot shower aggravated the soreness in my nipples which body lotion did little to salve. All in all, if Dave and I had not been divorced already, we probably would after that hour; either that or one of us would be facing a murder charge. I missed him; I really needed to kick someone.

When I threw up after cresting the first hill on my way to work, it was precisely the right time for regrets. I had taken the bike reasoning that I was less of a danger to other road users and, foolishly, that physical exercise would help with the hangover. Somewhere at the back of mind I thought I had read somewhere that former Tour de France winner Bradley Wiggins liked a beer. From that I somehow extrapolated that riding with a hangover must be good for you. The cheery honks from passing cars did not help my mood.

I have to say, my colleagues were amazing. There may have been a strong element of self-preservation in their generosity, but I barely spent a minute of the day without a cup of tea in front of me. One of the younger team members made sure fresh paracetamol arrived the minute the four hours between allowed doses expired and one of the Asian women gave me the plain boiled rice she had prepared for her own lunch In an effort to get something solid into me. As five o'clock rolled up I was beginning to congratulate myself on having survived the day when Tracy's text arrived.