Friend with Privileges - Anita

“I am a civil servant, you know.” I claim to those that will listen, and I’m not really lying because I do serve the public. Well, someone has to be a school crossing patrol man and that’s me, complete with 'HiViz' uniform and STOP board. The Job Centre man said that the job was not intended for a person of my age but admitted that those of greater age that had tried, left quickly having seemingly aged far faster that the brief period they had battled the fast moving traffic at the crossing place.

I’m forty years old, thrown on the 'scrap heap' of employment due in no little measure to my... how shall I say... my ability to understand the needs of the fairer sex. Husbands and thereafter employers did not take kindly to my attempts to engender 'savoir faire' between the sexes. I was, its true, on a one man mission.

So now, seeing kids safely across the road is my 'raison d'être', and I’m good at it. I have put the fear of hell and eternal damnation into any motorist that speeds through or otherwise makes the lives of the kids uncomfortable, not only on the crossing but along the entire road, in this tiny urban corridor over which I have control during periods of the day. Many were the persuasive lectures I willingly gave to recalcitrant road users; oh yes, cyclists and pedestrians too.

Mothers, Aunts, Grandma’s, and their male equivalents, indeed most persons accompanying the kids have complimented me on the great improvements that have followed my beginning the job. Even teachers have stopped to remark that motorists now show greater respect and awareness. That I am built, as they say in the vernacular, at least where I’m from, like a brick shit-house and have a voice that can intimidate even when I whisper, could have had an influence.

I enjoy the work, and I love seeing the kids and hearing their hilarious quips and comment, some even bring me little presents, like a biscuit for my breakfast. Me, no woman has been brave enough to contemplate trying to live with me let alone marrying me and having my offspring. I just hope, among all my efforts to keep happy the many females that have obliged me, that I have not left behind a little dark-haired person with big bones and a Mediterranean olive skin. But I have settled down to bachelorhood and put all the fornicating behind me.

Then along comes Sanna, the antithesis of me. Of Scandinavian descent, she is blonde, blue-eyed, pale-skinned and petite. Beside my six-two she is tiny at five-three, like a doll that could be carried to school in a kid's bag. When I first saw her my heart went boom and other parts of my anatomy competed for attention.

I am transfixed the first time she approaches where I stand in the road holding back the traffic. As she crosses the road and sweeps by me she looks up with those piercing blue eyes and smiles sweetly turning my bones to jelly. I am awaken from a fantasy of she and I in... by the harsh sound of the horn of a forgetful driver's car. I turn and glare in that direction, The woman tries to hide her face and waves an apology.

“New teacher Dan,” a voice beside me claims as I return to the side of the road. The woman grins at me. “I couldn’t swear to it but I think she is single too.” I try to laugh dismissively. Damn it, no matter how I try not to take too long in my appreciative glances at females, there is always some observant person there to bring me down earth. “That so, Anita?”

But then, this particular lady knows me a bit too well. We have met before, in 'relaxed' circumstances, of which her husband will continue to be unaware, I hope.

I gave up long ago trying to understand women, I just try to please them. But it has to be said that in my experience size does matter to the fairer sex, whatever their claims to the contrary. I am generously proportioned in terms of what interests a woman whose libido, for what ever reason, is at a high.

I could complain that at times I have been used as a toy, as a dildo, for a woman's selfish enjoyment. But then of course I have enjoyed the attention even if the woman was not willing for me to penetrate what is the domain of her husband alone.

-oOo-

Anita

In all previous searches for employment I was frequently to be found trawling the 'Sits Vac' in the Job Centre. Anita worked in the office at the back but occasionally would venture into the front to update the jobs on offer. I must have been rather too vociferous in a complaint that not enough was done to help such as I.

Anita introduced herself and invited me to a private office where she checked all my details. One of the details seemed to be the crotch of my jeans which I wore a little tight (I am not adversed to a little advertising). When I caught her staring at it she coloured up and began stumbling over her words. I found an escape route for her and we enjoyed a laugh about something totally inconsequential.

A few days later I was there again when Anita had more updates to distribute. We chatted briefly but again she could not resist a glance at my jeans. Boldly I asked her to join me in a drink at her lunch time, she accepted rather quickly.

She was very nervous as she drank the wine I bought her, her hand trembled. To allow her to decide what happened I cut the session short but asked if there was a chance that I could see her after work. It worked like a dream, she tried not to seem eager but I could see that she was relieved that it was I that had suggested it at that moment.

----

As Anita slid into my car I was impressed that she had taken trouble to make herself as attractive as possible, and her perfume flooded the car to send my pulse racing.

This lady may have been nervous but she knew just what she wanted. She refused my offer of a meal or drink instead gave me directions to where she said it would be 'private', I, myself was quite excited at the implication the word 'private'.

I drove through town finally directed to a lane at the side of a park where I stopped the car where it was camouflaged yet we had all round sight of the approach to it.

Before I had unbuckled the seat belt the woman's mouth was on mine and her fingers feverishly tugging at the zipper to my jeans. I helped by unzipping but that wasn’t good enough for my 'date', she wanted them not only open but off! With the object of her desire in her hands Anita instructed me to pull off the top she wore. As it cleared her auburn hair I discovered that she had a pair of exquisite 38C breasts, but before I was able to grab but a quick sample she insisted that I help with her skirt. Divesting her of this garment was not straight forward, a situation not helped by her insistence of manhandling (womanhandling?) my cock. It became obvious that Anita had prepared well for this meeting as besides not wearing a bra, neither did she wear panties.

A cursory excursion of my fingers to her pussy revealed that this lady was in an overheated state, her secretions flowed generously. Not that I was allowed to discover much more as she wanted action. The nervous young woman had disappeared and replaced by one who ordered me to 'fuck' her, once she had rolled a condom onto my dick with her mouth.

As I buried my face in her generous tits and my cock in her generously lubricated pussy she calmly informed me that I was a 'friend with privileges', and not the only one it seemed. The Job Centre was an ideal place to chose any man she took a fancy to. If they weren’t interested she simply chose another.

Anita knew how to fuck a 'friend with privileges', and she was surprisingly tight considering that the term meant that she had sex with whomever she chose with no commitment or emotional or practical ties. This lady was not reserved or restricted, she fucked as if her life depended on it and took whatever I could give.

Anita and I shared our 'friendship' and 'privileges' often.