Semper Figura Ch. 03

In 'Pygiaphilia' I introduced my long-ago lover, Alan, and his earliest adventure, going on in 'Semper Figura Chapters 1 and 2' to chronicle his next encounters, resident in his home town in Southern Rhodesia, as it then was, in 1942. Soon after, he came to England, not before learning that his youngest partner, was not pregnant. He served as a navigator in Lancaster bombers, and completed the required 30 missions. His nerves were too shattered by then to have anything further to do with flying, and for the last months of the War he worked in supply, the ordering and organisation of equipment, at which he was brilliant.

In late 1945, still convalescent from the stress of his flying days, he enrolled at the London School of Economics, so was in need of lodgings. He had the contact details of a distant relative, who might help. The two men met for tea at a Lyons Corner House and Alan was put through a brisk interview:

'Tidy?'

'Yes.'

'Like routine?'

'Yes.'

'Don't go drinking and dancing?'

'No.'

'Can be quiet a lot?'

'Yes.'

'Domesticated - dusting, ironing?'

'Yes.'

'Co-operative?'

'Yes.'

'Get on with women?'

'Yes.'

'I think you're honest, so this is a note of my lodgings during my degree. Moved out. Off to Cape Town. Say I sent you. Go in the evening.'

1

It was a tall terrace house, in Clerkenwell. The door was opened by a woman, in her fifties, he guessed. He was average height for a man, five feet eight or nine, but he was looking up into the face of someone three inches taller. She was waiting for him to state his business:

'Bob sent me. I need lodgings.'

Pale brown eyes studied him for ten seconds. Then she turned and walked a few paces away, towards the stairs, visible on the right of the narrow hall. He took this as an invitation to come in and inspect the accommodation, so entered with his luggage, which he left in the hall, and followed the lady up the stairs. Her long bare legs were muscular beneath her pleated tartan skirt. This fitted closely to her bottom, which oscillated pleasingly as she stepped up.

There were three rooms off the first floor landing. In the first he saw a bed, wardrobe and chest of drawers. The second was the bathroom. The third contained a table, chair and bookshelf. The lodger's study.

She spoke, in a deep contralto, 'Four pounds a week. Bed, breakfast, supper. Share housework. Week's trial.'

Alan could be laconic, too. 'Right. Move in at once.' She nodded he went downstairs to collect his suitcase.

She waited for him, and said, 'Supper at once,' as he went into his room to deposit his case, and then follow her down to the kitchen. She gave him a peeler and some potatoes, while she scraped some carrots and put a saucepan of water on the gas stove. Together, in silence, they prepared the vegetables to go with grilled pork chops. There was no dessert, but she made a pot of tea and he carried the tray into the sitting-room.

There was a little conversation, to establish that she was a maths teacher, that she was out all day, arriving home at six, when a room would be vacuumed and dusted. After which supper would be jointly made, followed by a short conversation over tea. The supper things would be cleared and both parties would retire to their rooms, hers being on the top floor. Breakfast would be got co-operatively for seven o'clock, and washed up before she left. Laundry would be done, again co-operatively, once a week.

This regime was laid out in a few words that first evening, before they did the dishes in silence. But, as they parted in the hallway, she looked into his eyes with a slight smile, and said, 'Ten-thirty,' and preceded him up the stairs, affording him a second view of her legs and firm bottom, the movement of which was possibly being deliberately exaggerated.

He unpacked in his bedroom, took some books into his study and wondered about the specifying of the time, and the accentuation of the bumovement. Did she really mean...? Surely not. He reflected on her appearance and sought for further clues. She was lean and moved with grace and economy, obviously fit. Her blue cashmere sweater showed her neat breasts to advantage. Her face was narrow, with high cheekbones under those pale eyes. They were hawk-like, because of the hooding of the lids, with deep creases at the outer corners. Her hair was pale grey and the same length all over, without a parting. Her lips were thin and pale beneath her arched nose. Altogether, she looked the conventional spinster schoolmistress. But there was something about her more than met the gaze.

A man who has risked his life night after night, shaken about the sky in an aeroplane being subjected to flak and machine-gun fire, is not likely to shrink from the risk of rebuttal. His only fear was of having misunderstood, and being discourteous.

He ascended the second flight of stairs and knocked on the door showing a light beneath. There was an immediate soft call. Not, 'What is it?' or 'Come in?' or 'Something wrong?' Just 'Yes,' affirming he was expected and might enter.

Her room was exactly the same as his. Bed, chest of drawers doubling as a bedside table, wardrobe, and chair. No sign of the clothes she had taken off. She was sitting up in bed, holding a book, looking at him over the top of reading-glasses. Any doubts about his presence were dispelled by the fact that the bedclothes were neatly turned down beneath her breasts. Middle-sized, but firm, nipples light pink and pointed.

She smiled, slowly took off her spectacles and laid them, and the book, on the chest. He approached her, half-surprised, but glad that he had read the signal, moved by her calm expectation. No wonder his relative had asked if he got on with women. No doubt that young man had preceded him in this bedroom. As he reflected he began to undress, wondering where to put his clothes. On the chair?.

He felt no shyness in standing naked in front of this virtual stranger, his penis already half erected. That he had again behaved correctly was confirmed when she indicated he should pull the bedclothes all the way to the bed-end, revealing her nude body. He understood he was being invited to inspect it as closely as he wished. Perhaps he might find it unattractive, decide not to go on, though that would, surely, lose him the accommodation.

She was, as he had observed when she was dressed, lean. There was no trace of fat. All bone and sinew. Her flat stomach carried two ridges of abdominal muscle into her groin. The muscles of her shoulders, arms and legs were well defined. Her pubic hair was a diamond of light-brown, shiny curls.

She observed his cock further stiffen, nodded and moved over so that he could lie beside her. In a movement so beautiful he remembered it ever after, she cupped her breasts with her hands, dipped her gaze to them and waited for him to bring his lips to bear. As he circled the areolas with his tongue her stomach tautened, and its muscles became rigid.

With another look, she sent him down across those tight ridges into the edge of her fluff. Her clitoris was already erect, poking its little glans out of the fringe. She tasted of talcum powder and sweat, and as he clit-licked she parted her thighs, disclosing the rest of her pale pink groove, shining with glaze.

He had wondered whether he would be permitted, or required, to enter her. The answer was clear, and he moved into position between those long, slender thighs, and slid forward to engage. As he eased his way in, she made the one sound she made during their congress, a sharp intake of breath. She locked her legs round his waist and drew him all the way in, then loosened her hold to let him withdraw a little, then pulled him in again.

This continued for seven or eight minutes, until he felt her vagina open further and noted the increased rhythm of their see-saw. Was he to ejaculate or save himself for her later orgasms? She gave him the answer as she kept him locked tight within her, her whole body rigid, every muscle tightened as the climax silently possessed her, and she tapped him smartly on the shoulder. She held him so tightly that it was near impossible to move within her to bring on his coming. But he didn't need to. Her muscularity included her pelvis, and she administered a series of vaginal squeezes, which drew eight or nine spurts.

He felt as if they had carried out a co-operative process, like the making of the supper and the washing-up, and understood that this was exactly how she perceived their sharing of the house. After minute or two it was clear that that was all for the night, and he was back in his room by eleven o'clock, where he was soon asleep.

That was the pattern from Monday to Friday, it soon appeared. They went out at eight and returned at six, shared the making and aftermath of supper, took tea together, and spent the evening apart. He reported to her bedroom. They copulated in the same way, and he left.

2

Saturdays, however, were slightly different. Both were out all day, made the meal, drank the tea, and separated. But time as she climaxed she did not tap his shoulder, so he simply remained still within her, letting her use his cock to grip on in her ecstasy. After it, she released him, eased him onto the bed beside her, rolled onto her side, facing away from him, and drew up her knees. Thus he was presented with her crack, and the intention was clear enough, but made the more obvious by her reaching a hand to lift her uppermost cheek, in a movement as beautiful as her offering of her breasts.

Therefore he got onto his knees, and slid himself into her. Whereupon she released her buttock, trapping him firmly inside. So delightful was the view of her bottom and of his penis disappearing and half reappearing, glistening with their mixed exudations, that he nearly came again at once. But, gentleman as he always was, never fulfilling his desire without the woman's compliance, he controlled himself, by studying his surroundings, for example taking note of the book she was reading. It was, he was intrigued to see, DH Lawrence's 'Women in Love.'

As he eased in and out, tightly gripped in her vagina, she began to rock back and forth, clenching and releasing her buttocks, steadily increasing the speed of the movement. It occurred to him to reach past her shoulder and fondle her breasts, and this was evidently welcome, for the rocking intensified and eventually she tensed her whole body and her vagina spasmed around him, again almost inducing ejaculation. But again he resisted the urge, because no signal had been given that he should come.

Quite soon she drew away a little, so that his cock pulled out. She eased onto her back and drew up her knees. He grasped that he was to bend himself across the bed against her bottom, which brought his cock into proximity with her vestibule, and for the first time she took hold of it and guided him in. She then let her thighs down to rest across his body, and conveyed with a wriggle that more was required. Quickly he got an arm over the nearer thigh and homed in on her clit. The combination of vaginal and clitoral stimulation acted quickly, and the pulsing in her cunt was an invitation to ejaculate as her orgasm blossomed.

He half expected that this might conclude the party, but she remained still and relaxed and sat up, expelling him. She then looked down into his eyes and raised her brows as if questioning his intention, and he realised that he was being given the choice to continue or stop, and that he could determine the form of any continuation.

His choice was easy. He rolled away from her in order to be able to turn and sit up. For a moment he hesitated to lay hands on her, but resolved he had permission and gently manoeuvred her into a kneeling position. As this was acceptable, he stationed himself behind her and waited for the exquisite charm of her bottom to harden him enough to quest into her furry crevice for her opening. She helped by bending her upper body down, and in he went.

He was now legitimately in control, he felt, so he surged into and out of her, withdrawing entirely for the joy of finding his way in again. It was so delightful that he pursued it for many minutes. Eventually he saw that she, too, was relishing the business, which added to his excitement. She, naturally, sensed this increase and registered the final stiffening of the penis as it thrust home, so that when he ejaculated she came, too.

Apparently that evened the score, so to speak, and their revels now were ended. Not even on this night of extravagant orgasms was he remain with her afterwards. Back to his room with him, so sleep the sleep of a satiated man, who, after all, had spermed into her already for six nights.

3

The routine was soon established, and continued for the three years of his degree course. After the first week he was given a door key, so he could come and go as he wished, though mostly he kept the same hours as she did. Thursdays were laundry, so that after the evening dish-washing he found himself rubbing soap-flakes through seven pairs of white interlock knickers and seven bras, while she looked after the cashmere sweaters.

I could describe what they did in the vacations -- they went right on working, she marking exams and teaching adult classes, he pressing on with his studies - how she took him to the boxing club where she worked out after school, and where she did the accounts in payment. But I will finish this episode in his life by saying that the combination of routine, hard work, silence and straightforward sex was perfect for Alan. His graduation with a first class degree was the conclusion of a happy period of his life, and he believed that his landlady had found it just as enjoyable as he had. Anyway, at the end of their time, she retired, sold the house, and went to live with a widowed sister in Sussex. What she did for sexual release in Hove he never knew. But he remembered her with affection and respect ever after, as a woman who had her life organised and her needs taken care of just as she wanted.