This story is quite a long one, and it takes a while to get to the sex, but when you do there is quite a lot of it. It covers a lot of different acts, but does not get any more ‘wild’ than anal sex.
The story could fit into many categories, but this is probably the best fit for it. The setting is Australia, and there are some references to the local ‘Australian Rules’ football code. If there is any of this that you find confusing please make a public comment and I will try to explain it for everyone.
Please let me know if you enjoy the story.
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PART ONE
I have two rules that I consider to be my ‘unbreakable’ ones. The first is, never bet with your customers, and the second is never bet when the odds are strongly against you.
“You’re on,” I said with only a moment’s hesitation, breaking both of my rules at once.
Julie always pushes my buttons. She is definitely the most attractive and desirable woman that I have ever met. She is witty and intelligent and she always pays on time. She is perfect in every way but one, and that is her total and blind dedication to the Collingwood Magpies. Just about every football league has a team that totally polarises the supporters, and in the AFL (Australian Football League) it is the Magpies. The people who love them do so passionately, and the rest of us hate them just as fiercely.
I was about half way through a major project for Julie. I had to pave the area around her swimming pool, which was pretty heavy work, and I also had to put up a privacy screen to stop people who were passing by from seeing in. Julie wanted the privacy screen so that she could relax by the pool in the nude. The first time she said this I had an instant hard on that didn’t go down for at least thirty minutes.
Julie has a body that is perfect, she’s just a bit shorter than average, with tits that always look like they are going to burst out of whatever it is that she is wearing. Her waist is tiny and her hips flare out from it just enough to show that she is a woman, not a girl. Her delicate features are framed by a jet black shoulder length pageboy haircut. I see her on the TV most weekends during the football season because the cameramen at the football are really perverts at heart, and a pretty girl in a team jumper at least three sizes too small for her always gets found. That will happen even if the jumper has what used to be vertical black and white stripes before they were stretched so drastically out of shape. The fact that Julie always sits next to a girl similarly dressed but with blonde hair doubles the chances too.
Julie is also way too young for me. She’s late twenties and I’m early forties, so as much as I like to look at her I have never tried to take it any further. But she’s not an airhead or a bimbo, and she is earning enough money to get the new super privacy screens that I was selling as a side line. These things are spectacular, and they allow the people inside to easily see out, and totally block the people outside from seeing in, regardless of whether it’s lighter inside and darker outside, or if it is the other way around. I’m not sure exactly how it’s done, there are layers of finely polarised material and some one way reflective sheets involved, but they work and that’s what counts. Like I said, from the inside you can see out, but from the outside all you see is the pattern or colour that I print on a special machine in my workshop.
Our main argument on this job was about the patterns for Julie’s screens. She wanted vertical black and white stripes, with the Collingwood logo on them, and I wanted just about anything else. But Julie is the customer. We were discussing it yet again.
“I’ll do it,” I said reluctantly, “but if it destroys my machinery I’ll charge you for it.” Julie grinned. She is the sort of Collingwood supporter who at least acknowledges that there is another point of view, even if she is absolutely sure they are wrong.
“For the money I’m going to pay you’d better,” she said bluntly, and I nodded. The screens aren’t cheap.
“I still don’t like it,” I grumbled, and then she smiled one those smiles that tells any man with half a brain to turn and run. I mustn’t have even a quarter of a brain, because I didn’t even turn.
“I’ll make a bet,” Julie said slyly, “if you win this weekend you can choose the decoration. Anything you want.” I must have looked interested, because she then continued very quickly. “If we win I get a twenty per cent discount off the whole job.”
Twenty per cent on that job was substantial, but that didn’t really bother me. Eight years earlier I had won first division in Tattslotto. People think that when you win the lottery you are set up for life, but that isn’t always the case. There were a number of winners that week and I had ended up with a bit less than seven hundred thousand dollars. It was enough to let me make a total change to my life, but not enough for me to give up work all together. Anyway, I quit my job as a supply co-ordinator in a large garden supplies chain, and took up landscaping instead. Working for myself I could choose the projects I wanted to take on, and not being short of money I could allow enough time to do them right. As a result I got a good reputation very quickly, and the screen suppliers from Finland actually sought me out and asked me to represent them. By the time I was doing Julie’s project I was earning almost twice as much as I had been before I ‘retired’.
“You’re on,” I said with only a moment’s hesitation, breaking both of my rules at once. I knew that the chances of the Kangaroos beating the Magpies on the weekend were minimal at best, but I had this mental picture of Julie’s privacy screen being blue and white vertical stripes with the North Melbourne logo on them and I had to take the chance. Julie lifted an eyebrow.
“Really?” she asked.
“Yep.” Julie looked dubious.
“Can you afford that?” she asked suspiciously. I could see that she was now wondering if I was overcharging her.
“Not really,” I replied, “but the chance of having the Kangaroos colours and logo is just too good to refuse.” She looked shocked.
“You wouldn’t…”
“You said anything I want,” I replied smugly, and I put my hand out. “So shake or chicken out?” Julie stared at me for some time, and then shook my hand.
“We’ve got a bet,” she said, “I’ve just got to work out what do with the extra money I budgeted for the job.”
“Don’t count your chickens,” I suggested, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
The next day Julie gave me the chance to change my mind, and I thought that was really sporting of her. She knew as well as I did that the odds were firmly stacked on her side. Collingwood were the reigning premiers, and they had been almost unbeatable all year while the ‘roos were sitting in the bottom half of the ladder and had only shown a few flashes of their former glory all season. I knew I was throwing my money away, but as I said, I didn’t really care, and even the slightest of chances was worth it. We kept the bet.
By Friday afternoon I had the screens up on three sides. It was quite a job, because their strength was mostly achieved by interlocking them precisely together, and the foundations I had set into concrete had to be exact. Fortunately I was pretty well practiced, and the job was going well.
“I’m not looking forward to Monday,” I said, wiping my brow as Julie brought me a cold drink.
“Why’s that?” she asked, falling into the trap.
“Have to take them all down again to change the covers,” I said grinning, and she took a good natured swipe at me.
“Then the result will suit us both,” she teased, putting her hands on her hips and leaning toward me. I groaned silently as her chest stretched her already challenged polo shirt totally out of proportion. I swear that she must use wire to sew her buttons on; they should have been flying in all directions after that amount of force was applied. That incredible cleavage was just so distracting. I turned away and heard her giggle quietly. I had long ago realised that she was deliberately teasing me, but I didn’t care, the view was well worth it.