The Fall Ch. 02

'I'm sorry about last night,' Lydia apologised. 'I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.'

'No worries. I just wasn't expecting that level of questioning.'

'I'm a nosey person.'

'It doesn't matter.'

She patted Ben's head. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Why not? You've already asked the worst.'

She grinned. 'It's actually a follow on from last night. Have you really not had a blow job?'

'Oh fuck.' He shook his head in disbelief. 'Is it really that hard to believe?'

'Yeah, it is. Didn't you ever nudge her down? You know, during foreplay?'

'Nope.'

'Why not?'

'Because we stopped with the foreplay when she told me if I was going to have sex with her, I had to make it quick. She clearly wasn't interested in me. I tried to hurry things along as best I could.'

'You said you had sex with a pick-up. Did you enjoy sex with her?'

'No. I was really nervous. And it was hard to penetrate her. It actually really hurt the next day.'

'Did you orgasm?'

'Yeah, eventually. We'd been drinking, and between that and the condom, it took a while.'

Dylan tried to respond to the questioning as impassively as he could. He asked her a few questions. Do you actually orgasm? Do women genuinely like sex? Does penis size matter? She replied yes, yes, and not unless you're exceptionally big or small. The answers surprised him.

He asked her why she got implants.

'Because I was trying to please a boyfriend,' she said. 'I had small boobs and he made me feel bad.'

'Why do you end up with men who make you feel bad about yourself?'

'Probably the same reason you ended up with a woman who made you feel bad about yourself. Loneliness. Not having a comparison point. Not realising how unhappy I was, or rather, not wanting to accept how unhappy I was. I wanted a dream. I wanted to be a famous author and have a brood of kids.' She reached for her cigarettes. 'I suppose that's the problem when you treat men like a backdrop. You want them to be part of your picture. You don't ever stop to wonder what future they might be picturing, and how you'd fit into it.'

He understood.

They drove into Oakey. It was lunchtime and she asked if he wanted to eat. He did, she did, so they both did. They went to a cafe that also served as a takeaway and ordered. She paid for his lunch, which was a novel experience.

'I've never had a woman buy me lunch before,' he commented, as they waited for their meals.

'Really? It's probably the least I can do, given the trouble I'm putting you too.'

'You're not any trouble.'

That was a definite lie. She was definitely going to create trouble, but she was dressed in an attractive package, and she was good company, so he figured she was worth it.

'Well, I bet you wish you'd ordered the extra bacon on your burger,' she grinned.

He always regretted not ordering the extra bacon, but it had more to do with being conscious of his weight than his budget. He'd always been fat, but marriage had made him balloon. In hindsight, he'd been trying to eat the unhappiness away.

Lydia was a surprisingly healthy eater. He would have picked her for the girl that would eat a greasy burger and chips, but she'd ordered a chicken salad.

'So how does the running and the salads fit in with the drinking and smoking?' he asked curiously.

'I run because it reminds me not to drink too much. I eat salad because I like it, and the same goes for drinking and smoking.' She smiled at him. The crooked teeth were becoming beguiling. 'Don't worry, I'm stereotypical enough to both eat my salad and then start eating your chips.'

She held true to her promise.

'Can I ask you something personal about your divorce?' he asked, as he pushed his plate into the middle of the table so she could better attack his fries.

'Sure. What do you want to know?'

'How did your financial settlement go? Did you argue? Did you give up something you wanted to make it all go through?'

Lydia dipped her chip into the container of sauce. 'We actually didn't have a hell of a lot of assets. We'd bought a house a little over a year before we separated, and we ended up selling it for five thousand less than we'd paid for it. We probably could have held onto it longer to see if we could get a better price, but he was keen to move in with his girlfriend, so we took the first offer we got. Once we'd paid the real estate agent, and finalised the loan repayment, there wasn't a lot left of our deposit.'

'Do you still speak to your ex?'

'Hell no. The last time we spoke was when the divorce was finalised. He made some smarmy comment about wishing me the best, and I told him to blow a goat.' She popped the chip in her mouth. 'Why do you ask? You having troubles with your ex?'

'We can't agree on percentage splits and who buys who out.'

'What does your lawyer say?'

'He sees me coming and I swear he starts deciding which new Mercedes to buy.'

'Ok, then tell me, what is it you want, and why is it so important to you to get it?'

Dylan tried to explain it as best he could. He wanted the land because he'd owned it before they were married. He liked it. He'd buried his old dog by an elderly gum tree, and there was a creek running through it that was cool and clear and perfect for swimming. The irrigation license was in his name. The cattle were in his name. He was the one that had done all the hard work.

'It sounds to me like she wants to hurt you,' Lydia said. 'Have you asked her why?'

He'd always assumed the same thing and he had asked Michelle the question, but his tone had been aggressive and Michelle had shut the door in his face. Lydia's was more curious, more probing. If Lydia was asking the question of Michelle, it was probably because she wanted to the genuine answer, not because she was fed up and angry.

'I have, but probably not in the best way,' Dylan conceded.

'Maybe you should try writing to her. Offer a better pay out in exchange for being the one who gets to stay.'

'It would never work.'

'I could help you, if you want. I'm pretty good at writing stuff.'

'No. I'm not letting you near this.'

She shrugged. Pushed the plate away. 'It's up to you. You want to show me this property? It's bloody hot. We could go for a swim.'

~~~~~~~~~

The property was amazing. She understood why he wanted to keep it. There were fields of forage crops, two herds of cattle, and an amazing wooded around that surrounded the shed. It was different to Cyril's place, more shaded and better fenced. He'd obviously put in a lot of work.

When he'd said 'I live in a shed', she'd mentally envisaged a small, residential shed, but what he lived in was a massive barn, a third of which had been converted to living quarters. There was a bathroom, kitchen and living room downstairs, and she assumed that the steel ladder leading to the second story also led to the bedroom. The other two thirds were sectioned off, and a quick peek showed a tractor, a lot of car parts, fertilisers and sprays, cattle feed and other miscellaneous bits and bobs.

'You want a drink?' he asked.

'A drink or a drink?'

'A beer or a Coke?' he clarified.

She drank neither.

'I'll have a glass of water.'

He poured her a glass of water from the tap. It was cool and had the same taste as the water she'd drunk from his esky on the first day they'd met. It was definitely tank water.

Lydia sat on his couch, her feet curled up underneath her. The place smelt like grease and hay, but it was clean. He had a massive television. She wondered if sat here at night and watched porn, jerking himself off, or if he went to his bedroom to do it. She remembered his embarrassment at admitting it was an argument over masturbation that had finally killed his marriage. No wonder he'd left her. He hated being humiliated. Most men did.

'I'll let your car cool down a bit and have a look at it,' he said, sitting beside her with a beer in his hand.

'Thank-you. I appreciate it.'

She shifted so she was facing him. He was staring straight ahead, fiddling uneasily with the tab on his beer. He didn't know what to do with her. No wonder he'd only slept with two women. A more confident man would have had her in the bedroom by now.

There was nothing about him that was sexually aggressive. Maybe he was insecure. Actually, that was probably it. A few bad sexual experiences coupled with an overall lack of experience would have left her pretty anxious. She'd have to make a move on him if anything was going to happen.

Lydia put her water on the floor. She plucked the can of beer from Dylan's hand and put it next to her drink. She straddled him, and ran her hands through his hair. Her ex had been losing his, and spent a lot of money trying to get it back. Dylan certainly didn't have that problem.

'You don't need to do this,' he said awkwardly.

She kissed him. 'I want to. Do you?'

He nodded slightly as he reached out to embrace her. 'Of course.'

He was a surprisingly good kisser. Her crotch tingled and a feeling of longing spread through her. She wriggled out of her shirt, and directed his hands to her breasts. He took the hint, and fumbled with her bra, eventually managing to pull it off.

The surgeon had earned his money with her tits, and Dylan definitely appreciated it. He put one hand on her lower back to hold her close, and used the other to fondle her nipples as he kissed her, his tongue probing inside her mouth.

Lydia tugged his shirt up and over his head. All of her previous partners had been thin, bordering on skinny. Pretty boys, with hair-free skin and tatts, who knew they looked good. Dylan was very different; broad, strong, overweight and free of tattoos. There was hair on his chest and stomach, and he didn't like her taking too much of a look at him. He kissed her in a move to distract her.

'Lying down or standing up?' she asked.

He was confused. 'What do you mean?'

She sucked gently on the skin on his neck. 'What position do you want to be in?'

'Oh, that.' He leant back to give her better access to his neck. His hands moved back to her chest. 'Not yet. This is nice.'

Lydia had a horrible thought. She stopped kissing his neck. 'Do you have problems getting hard?'

The look he gave her was incredibly curt. It was the same look he'd given her when she told him she hadn't slept with anyone since her separation. It was disbelief, annoyance and dismissal all rolled into one, and it was enough to make her realise why he was having problems with his ex.

'No,' he said irritably, grabbing her hand and pressing it against his erection. 'I just like kissing you.'

They locked gazes. He shrugged, as if he'd said all that needed to be said. Lydia wondered if he actually liked her. He seemed to, most of the time, but that look on his face...

Ben licked her foot. She jumped, and pulled her foot away. Ben barked excitedly and jumped onto the couch.

'Three's company,' she told the dog.

'Come to my bedroom,' Dylan said. 'He can't get up the ladder.'

They climbed up to his bed. She'd been dubious about the stability, but the platform was free from any wobbles. His bed was unmade and it smelt of him. There was a tablet and a box of tissues on the bedside table. This was where he got himself off, not downstairs.

She wriggled out of her shorts and underwear, and lay on the bed. He did the same. He leaned over her and kissed her, his cock pressing against her hip. He was neither too big or too small and he was, as he'd said, uncircumcised.

No one had ever touched her the way he did. He took his time exploring her body with his mouth and his hands, as if he'd never been given this much free reign before, and didn't expect to again.

'What turns you on?' he whispered.

'This.'

'Really?'

She moved his hand between her legs, and parted the dark curls of her pubic hair to give him access to her cunt. It was the one area he'd been too timid to touch. His hands were rough but clean, and she moved them over her clit in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

'If I kept doing this, would you orgasm?' he asked.

She nodded.

'Good,' he said.

Dylan was a good student. He paid attention to what she was showing him. Experimented with rhythm and pattern, while watching closely for her reaction. Kissed her when she indicated she wanted to be kissed, and gently sucked on her nipples when she pressed his head down to her chest.

It took her a while to orgasm. It always took a while with a new partner. Sometimes it took too long, and they'd give up trying, but Dylan was patient. He obviously saw making her cum as some sort of personal achievement, because when she did climax, he looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

'Thanks for that,' she grinned, kissing him.

'That was amazing. Can I do it again?'

'Not now.' She pushed him onto his back, moved his legs apart, and sat in between them. 'Show me how you jerk off.'

He reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock. He placed his hand over hers and began to slide it up and down. He was rough with himself. There was a lot of pressure and a lot of fast movement.

'Okay, got it,' she said, moving his and her hands away. 'Lie still.'

Lydia had doubted his claims that he'd never had a blow job, but there was something about the way he reacted to her mouth sliding over the head of his erection that made her suspect he may have been telling the truth. He squirmed and waved his hands around uselessly, not sure what to do with them, until she swatted them away. She wasn't going to give him any ideas that it might be okay to hold her down. She hated that.

'You need to stop,' he ordered, his hands returning to her shoulders. 'Lydia, please. Stop.'

'Am I hurting you?'

'No, but I'm going to....' he trailed off.

Orgasm. He was going to cum. She'd figured that. He'd been making the right sort of noises and movements.

'That's the idea,' she argued.

She bent her head down and took him in her mouth. He didn't stop her this time. She stroked his balls with her free hand, and that was enough to finish him off.

'Oh Jesus, Lydia, Lydia, Lydia,' he groaned, arching his back. 'Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'

He was trying to stay as still as he could, which she appreciated, but it must have been a pretty good orgasm, because it was a struggle for him.

She waited until his body calmed, then reached discreetly for the tissues, and cleaned her mouth and his genitals. She had no idea how women swallowed. Jizz always set off her gag reflex and it was a struggle to keep sucking while they came.

Often it wasn't worth it, but for him it was. She liked him. He was a bit of an oaf, and that look he'd given her downstairs and last night - so angry and defensive - still bothered her, but he was a good lover. She knew he must feel somewhat fondly towards her, too.

She lay curled up in his arms, her body slick with sweat. She yawned. She was tired. Cyril had been struggling late last night with the pain, and she'd stayed up with him, talking him through it.

'Can I ask you another question?' he asked.

'Sure, but I'm letting you know now I don't do anal and I don't let men jizz on my face. Tits, sure, but not on my face.'

'Lydia!' He exclaimed. He started to laugh. 'I wasn't going to ask for anal. I was going to say that I like you. I want to keep seeing you. Is that okay?'

'Absolutely. I'd love to. But don't tell Cyril, right? I told him I wasn't interested in you. If he finds out I've changed my mind, he'll rub my face in it.'

'It can be our secret.'

She kissed his chest. 'Good. That'd be good.'

~~~~~~~~~~

Dylan was the closest he'd ever come to giving her an orgasm. If she'd reached down between her legs and stroked her swollen clit she'd probably come in seconds.

Michelle was standing just inside the doorway of his shed listening him do unspeakable things to a mystery woman. At first she'd thought she was overhearing porn. He'd always liked porn, watched it, masturbated to it.

She'd hated it. Hated the thought of him touching his cock. Hated overhearing the muffled sounds of fake orgasms filtering into the living room from his bedroom. But he sounds the woman was making weren't fake. They weren't loud enough, or enthusiastic enough for that. The noises were more innate, more primitive. There was a sense of urgency and desire in her voice. She wanted him to keep doing whatever it was he was doing to her.

Michelle had never wanted Dylan to do anything except hurry up and finish, so that she could go back to her imaginary life, the one where she had no husband and no need to have sex with a man. She'd avoided intimacy as much as she could, but every so often he'd whine and carry on so much she'd relent. She set rules; no foreplay, no kissing, and for the love of all things good and holy, don't try and go down on me. The thought of his hairy face between her legs made her shudder.

The woman climaxed. Michelle's underwear got wetter. How had she not realised she was a lesbian?

She heard Dylan and the woman laugh softly together. It was an inherently pleasant thing to bring your partner to orgasm, and she would have felt happy for him if she didn't despise him so much. When they'd dated, and during the engagement period, she'd felt ambivalent towards him. During marriage, this had turned to dislike. Separation and their upcoming divorce, and all of the shit he decided to pull to get revenge, meant mutual loathing flourished.

Michelle considered knocking, or calling out. While she was hesitating, the mystery woman started giving her ex-husband sexual attention. She could hear Dylan moaning, but not a sound out of the woman, so she could only surmise he was in the process of receiving a blow job. Her stomach turned at the thought of it. The funny thing was, she could suck on her girlfriend's strap on and enjoy the experience, but the idea of putting her mouth near a man's penis was repulsive.

It didn't take long for Dylan to orgasm. It never had. But he'd been quieter with her than he was now. With her, sex only ever resulted in a muffled groan and him trying to cuddle up with her afterwards. She used to kick him out of bed. She hated his hot, hairy, sweaty body. She hated the way his semen leaked from her pussy onto her thighs.

He'd wanted to have a baby with her. It was shortly after his twenty-seventh birthday that he'd floated the idea. He became more persistent over time. He wanted to be a father. He wanted two or three kids, boys or girls or boys and girls, he didn't mind either way. The never-ending requests for sex had become more frequent. He bred cattle. He understood the concept of ovulation. She knew he was watching her cycle, checking for when she was fertile.

She wondered if he'd want children with his new girlfriend. He probably would. The girlfriend might even want kids, too. She might be happy giving him blow jobs, letting him sleep with her whenever he wanted, and having babies. They might get married.

What a thought. What a horrible, horrible, thought.

On second thoughts, maybe not. Now that Dylan was seeing someone else, he might be more agreeable to the financial settlement she was seeking. She'd spoken to him this morning and he'd actually hesitated for a second. Maybe he was seeing sense. Maybe he was already in deep with the new woman, and was ready to start a life with her.

'Dylan,' she called out. 'Are you there?'

There was a split second of hesitation before he replied in the affirmative and asked her what she wanted.

Michelle walked into the shed. Dylan's shirt, and the woman's shirt and bra were on the couch. She ignored all items of clothing.

'I wanted to speak to you about the divorce,' she said.

'Maybe later, okay?'

'Too busy entertaining yourself with a selection of porn? What is it today? Eighteen year old girls getting their vaginas destroyed?'