Dan’s Story

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John Lennon is supposed to have said “Everything will be alright in the end and if it’s not alright it’s not the end yet” but he also wrote “Happy Christmas War is over” and I hate that song so I’m in two minds about his insight. Mawkish singalongs aside there’s a certain wisdom in what he said but sometimes it’s only with the benefit of hindsight you realise when it was alright and when it was not so alright.

It all started around twenty years ago, I’d come out of university on a Land Management degree with a 2:1 and every intention of becoming something important in the UK farming or forestry industries. Of course, life intervened and I found myself a junior negotiator for Tilley Wood associates, a small chain of estate agents in and around South Gloucestershire. After a year or two rotating through the different branches I settled in the Farm and Land sales department, based in Yate, which was handy as my parents lived there and I could carry on living at home while I saved for a house deposit.

My sister, Carole, is only fourteen months younger than me and we got on as well as older siblings living with their parents can, parents who were happy enough to have us around as it meant they could go off at a moment’s notice knowing the house was safe, the cat fed and the bins put out, although Dad did drop the odd hint about finding a place of my own from time to time.

Carole and I would occasionally hang out together on a Friday or Saturday evening, our circle of friends largely overlapped and so it came to pass that one Friday evening in 2001 we were in one of the waterfront bars in Bristol with around a dozen or so friends when She walked in. I know it’s a cliché, but things only become clichés because they happen a lot; it was as if time stopped. I could only see one person in colour and everyone else was in black and white. She wasn’t the prettiest, or the tallest or had the biggest boobs or anything outstanding, She just walked in wearing her spaghetti strapped light brown top, a short soft leather jacket, jeans and Nike trainers and took my breath away.

She looked around, spotted someone she knew, waved and joined her.

The moment was broken, my mate Gary was waving an empty glass under my nose. “Pint mate? Or are you duty driver tonight?”

I looked over at Carole, she had a couple of empty Bacardi-Breezer bottles in front of her and was pouring a third down her throat at a rate of knots.

“Carole, Keys?” I called over, she held up the fob for the Vauxhall Astra we shared. I mouthed “You owe me,” she nodded and threw it in my direction. I would like to say I made a deft catch, but she can’t throw to save her life and it fell on the carpet, I bent to pick them up so only heard Carole’s friend Wendy shout out “Coco, over here.”

By the time I stood up and told Gary yes, I was duty driver and I’d have a lime and soda please Coco had joined us, bringing my vision with her.

Carole knew Wendy from school, they’d been guides and gone to ballet classes together then drifted apart and were now back as friends in the same wider group, Coco was someone I’d seen once or twice in the past couple of years, enough to be someone I vaguely recognised but not someone I’d ever spoken to. I think she and Wendy were in the same running group, actually I know that now, but I didn’t then.

I managed to avoid dribbling on the carpet as Sharon was introduced round, she was Coco’s flatmate, worked as a nurse at the Bristol Royal Infirmary and was getting married in six months to a junior doctor. All thoughts of stealing her away were dashed the more I heard about doctor bleeding fantastic.

He was training as a surgeon and wanted to specialise in paediatric heart surgery, he had spent six months volunteering in Cambodia, was captain of his cricket team and ran a sub three-hour marathon. I sold second-hand farms, played Sunday morning football and once tried a ten K run where I vomited after thirty minutes. Feeling mildly inadequate I sipped my driver’s special and watched, besotted and unrequited. I may have spoken a couple of words to her, I don’t remember.

I tried to put thoughts of Sharon out of my head, but I was truly fixated. She was the first thing I thought about when I woke up and the last thing I thought about at night, my days were spent trying to concentrate on work but failing, finding myself dreaming of her endlessly. Strangely, my fantasies were largely based on being with her in different scenarios, at the pub, going to a movie, walking across the hills, very little in the sexual fantasy way of things, although I did wonder what she looked like naked on a few occasions.

I hit on an idea, with hindsight it was a terrible idea, to be honest even at the time I knew it was a really bad idea, one of the worst things I’ve ever done as a person and one of which I am still ashamed some twenty years later. The one saving grace is that no one worked out what I did at the time and now enough time has passed that I will probably get away without becoming a social pariah. isvecbahis yeni giriş Again.

I got Wendy’s number from Carole and gave her a call.

“Hi Wendy, it’s Dan, Dan Palmer, Carole’s brother. Listen… I wonder, is Coco seeing anyone, do you know?

Yeah, I know, I didn’t ask at the time, and I feel so stupid.

She isn’t? That’s good to know. Can I get her number… Thanks. Oh, work too, yes please. Owe you one.”

I should have felt like the horrible person I was but in fact I felt a growing excitement as I dialled Coco’s work number.

“Nicola Walsh, Newsroom.”

“Hi Nicola, Coco, I don’t know if you remember me, it’s Dan Palmer. You were at ‘Dockers’ on Friday, we were in the group with Wendy?”

She did remember me, my drooling over her flat mate hadn’t been noticed and yes, she would love to go out for a drink with me on Thursday evening.

We arranged to meet near her office in the centre of Bristol at 6, giving me time to get in from Yate after I finished work.

Her name was Nicola, but everyone called her Coco, apparently they had since she was about seven. She was twenty years old, worked as a junior in the news department of one of the local radio stations while she finished her journalism degree part time at Bristol University. Around five four or five she had a nice figure, taking Dancercise classes and running in a group with Wendy several times a week. Her hair was a deep natural chestnut colour with a pretty heart shaped face and quite a cute nose.

The first date went OK, she explained that local journalism wasn’t all Woodward and Bernstein, it was much more amusing stories about singing sheep and reporting on angry people pointing at fly tipping, I tried to make selling farms and agricultural properties sound less dull than it actually is at my level, which is the sitting in the office doing the paperwork level.

It was the third date before I could get myself back to the flat she shared with Sharon in St Pauls, and to my disappointment I was dragged into her bedroom before Sharon got home. I still can’t believe that’s how I felt at the time, Coco had me on her bed with her tongue in my mouth and her hand down my pants and all I could think was if I could keep it going long enough there was a chance Sharon would get home from work and I could talk to her.

Coco was an enthusiastic if unskilled lover, she peeled my trousers off and sucked on my growing cock for a minute or two before sitting upright and undoing her top. I reached up to unclip her bra, making a pigs ear of the job to the extent that she reached behind her back and did it for me.

I buried my face in her soft cleavage while we both struggled with our trousers before breaking apart for a moment while she asked if I had one with me. I struggled to work out what she meant for a moment then it clicked, oh condom. Yes, I dug the emergency johnny out of my wallet and we spent a frustrating interlude trying to get it fitted.

All safely wrapped up she lay back and parted her legs, the thick dark bush beckoned me invitingly. I lined up and slowly pushed in, she moved her hips slightly and we rocked against each other for around five minutes after which she rolled out, pushed me onto my back and straddled me, grinding hard for another five minutes. I reached up and squeezed gently on her tits, rolling her nipples between my fingers bringing a moan of delight and a quickening of her hip movements. Her internal muscles tightened as she gasped out an orgasm and I found myself spasming in synch with her.

We lay together in a post coital glow when the opening of the front door took my thoughts to Sharon. I feigned a desperate need to pee and threw on my jeans and T-shirt, stepping out into the hallway in time to see her disappear into the kitchen. I followed her in and stood smiling inanely.

I got a puzzled look, “Yes? Who are you then?”

“Oh, Dan. We met at the pub a few weeks back, I’m seeing Coco now.”

“OK Dan, what can I do for you?”

I resisted the urge to say something stupid like ‘leave that bastard doctor and be with me’ and waved aimlessly in the air

“Err, looking for the loo? And going to make some tea, want a cup?”

She pointed me at one of the closed doors, “Bathroom’s in there. No tea for me, make sure you wash your hands.” And turned to disappear into her room.

The next two or three months settled into a pattern, we’d generally go back to Coco’s place, I’d try desperately to catch a glimpse or sneak a word or as the months rolled on go out as a foursome for a drink or one amazing evening for a curry together with Sharon and Doctor bastard Jamie Richards

I liked Coco, don’t get me wrong, but I was still smitten to the core by Sharon. Even now, nearly twenty years later, I still get a reminder of a twist inside when I think about her and my whole love life then was based on getting close to my girlfriend’s flatmate. I know it wasn’t a healthy basis for a relationship but what can I say? I’m a terrible excuse isvecbahis giriş for a human being.

About two months into going out with Coco a couple of things happened, one she decided we were going away on holiday together and chose Madeira as the destination. Two weeks of off-season sun, on paper it seemed like a brilliant idea. Sun, sea, girlfriend that was getting more serious all the time. What’s not to like? All I could see was two weeks away from Sharon.

The second thing was Doctor Jamie Richards and Sharon came to a crashing end. Turned out he wasn’t quite so gleaming Mister perfect after all when Sharon found out he’d got drunk at a cricket club outing and shagged one of his teammate’s sisters. She was now pregnant and he, being the principled arsehole that he was, had decided to ‘make a go of it ‘with Charlotte. I was delighted. Coco was supportive and Sharon was devastated.

I took a couple of weeks to draw breath and plot, by now Coco had given me a key to her place so I could get in when she wasn’t there. I took full advantage of that key and sneaked a look at the kitchen calendar that had Sharon’s shifts for the next month marked out on it, transferring the dates into my diary. I then made sure I ‘happened’ to be around when she was off duty or coming in after work.

Coco’s Uni course took up a couple of evenings a week and on the first available occasion where Coco’s course and Sharon’s off duty coincided I ‘confused the dates’ and turned up with a takeaway Thai meal, a bottle of wine and ‘The Thomas Crown Affair’ on VHS.

It didn’t take a huge amount of persuasion to get Sharon to share the meal and wine with me, I made sure she drank two thirds of it and immediately after the dance scene between Pierce Brosnan and Renee Russo I made my move. A successful move. We started out on the Sofa, we practically devoured each other in our eagerness to get at each other’s bodies. Mine from pent up lust over months, hers from anger and frustration at her arsehole ex.

I sat back on the brown velour cushions and watched as she buried my cock in the back of her throat, angrily growling as she sucked hard on my swelling meat. With a gasp she sat up, pulled her shirt off and pushed my face into her breasts. I took a deep breath and dived in; they were everything I’d imagined. Stiff pink nipples sitting on generous, firm mounds of flesh, I was in heaven.

She dragged me up and into her bedroom where we carried on, I had my first proper sixty-nine for ages, Coco wasn’t the best at giving head, she didn’t seem to be into it at all whereas Sharon was insatiable. When we both came up for air she demanded I fuck her hard from behind, a demand I was only too happy to fulfil. She screamed out her first orgasm of the evening into her pillow as I gave a sharp slap on her tight bum.

It didn’t slow her down a bit, rolling over and pulling me into missionary with her ankles up high above my shoulders. Looking down at her I noticed a Unicorn tattoo under her left breast. I took the opportunity to distract myself and delay the onrushing explosion.

“What’s the tat about then?”

“It’s a unicorn, what’s it look like? It’s She-Ra’s unicorn, you know. By the power of Grayskull. Now FUCK ME HARDER.”

So, I did.


We lay in her bed, cuddling close. She addressed the big old elephant first.

“What do you want with this? Is this a one off or are we gonna do it again? Are we just shagging around or what?”

I had retained a modicum of good sense and didn’t blurt out my undying love there and then, instead I turned it back to her. “Not entirely sure. We could see where it goes?”

Which we did.

Three evenings a week while Coco was at Uni we’d get together and fuck each other’s brains out. My feelings for her were getting stronger and stronger, and on the odd occasion we discussed anything other than how good that felt or how hard we were about to cum, I got the idea she was feeling something for me too.

I was desperate to make some declaration that I was committed to Sharon, that we were an item, so I went out and got She-Ra’s unicorn tattooed on my shoulder. Coco wasn’t ecstatic, she doesn’t much like tattoos at the best of times. Fortunately for me she hadn’t seen Sharon’s at that point, or it may have been a sticky conversation.

Sharon liked it and that was all that was important to me.

It all came to a head the week I was supposed to go away with Coco to Madeira, Sharon gave me an ultimatum that I had to break off with her, she’d been talking about weddings to Sharon and even I with my warped self-centred pitiful feelings of entitlement could see I owed her the truth. I cancelled our hotel, planning to transfer her half of the money back after we’d talked things through. Her schedule meant the only day we could meet was the day before we flew out, I thought the best thing to do would be to meet at her flat so I took the afternoon off work and headed over.

Coco wasn’t due home until six so I didn’t need to rush, but I isvecbahis güvenilirmi also knew Sharon was finishing nights that morning and would probably be up for some fun. We were in her room, I’d just been rolled out of her, and she’d pounced on me, sucking hard on my cock, licking down to the base and gripping hard, but not biting, with her teeth on the shaft.

“Oh God Shaz, that feels amazing,” I gasped

She jumped down onto the floor, kneeling she pointed at her pussy and told me to get in there again, I joined her on the floor and was pumping hard when the door opened and Coco stood there, tears in her eyes and a stream of Fucking Fuckity Fucks in her mouth.

Surprised I came out with the inanest comment possible, “This isn’t what it looks like,” then after a moments reflection I followed up with “Actually, it is. I didn’t want you to find out like this. I want to break up with you.”

For some reason I didn’t stop pumping in and out of Sharon’s pussy, I think it was a defence mechanism, if I was doing that I couldn’t think about what I’d done to Coco. As an afterthought I added “We won’t be going to Madeira then.”

The door slammed behind her, then opened again and Sharon needed a new flatmate. In the absence of anything else to do we carried on, although I felt conflicted, I wasn’t conflicted enough to stop. Eventually the front door opened and closed, and I didn’t see her again for almost twenty years.

Sharon and I quickly became an official item, the story of how we’d got together went round the group and we soon had to find new friends, one of the group being my baby sister meant Mum and Dad found out and I was a pariah in my own home. “We’ve been married thirty years I’ve never even looked at another blah blah blah.” I moved out and in with Sharon.

Six months passed, I still spoke to Carole and heard through the grapevine that Coco went to Madeira and came back as Nicola, a much more confident and stronger person. I didn’t care. I was with Sharon and life could not be better. Work went well, I got a promotion to Negotiator which came with a few thousand a year more and a company car, a bright yellow Mini with the company details emblazoned on the sides. All in all, for three months I was on top of the world.

Hubris. (n)

Excessive pride or arrogance, often leading to harm or retribution.

After three months things started to change sightly, I was getting a bit more self-aware and realised what an absolute arsehole I’d been to Coco, fabricating an entire relationship to get close to her flatmate. Sharon and I had a few fundamental different viewpoints and principles, she was a bit of a lefty politically, I was much more Conservative, and we started having the odd argument and disagreement. I started realising I was just a rebound relationship for her, which really came to a head when Doctor bloody perfect had a massive row with Charlotte and she threw in his face he wasn’t the father of her expected baby, the father was a nightclub bouncer but as a Doctor his was the bigger meal ticket. I edited it down for brevity, but the short version was Sharon provoked an argument, walked out in the middle of the night and, I discovered the next day, went straight to Jamie’s flat, do not pass go, do not collect £200.

Two days later she turned up at ‘our’ flat, packed all her things into the back of his Audi estate and we were officially no longer an item. I went indoors and cried for an hour or two, then varied it with feeling sorry for myself before calling Gary and getting pissed with him.

On about the fourth pint he asked why on earth I’d broken up with Coco when she was so much nicer, smarter, better looking and generally lovely. For the first time I started to wonder myself.

Eight pints and a curry later I was hunched over the toilet bowl and the self-loathing set in. I’d done a shitty thing and hadn’t even ended up with the girl I wanted. I was still hung up on Sharon, I was realising just what a weasel I’d been with Coco and since I’d so openly cheated on someone in the wider circle of my group I didn’t have many friends that were still talking to me.

I lived a bit of a zombie like existence for close to six months, going through the motions at work, living off ready meals and takeaways at home, I’d taken on the lease of the flat and lived there alone. It was slowly turning into a post-apocalyptic wasteland of empty beer cans, pizza boxes and unwashed plates when as if my life couldn’t get any worse something else came along to prove what an idiot I can be.

I was called out by a client to the property they were trying to sell, a two bedroomed former farmworkers cottage in one of the more remote villages. We had it on the market at £125,000 which was probably a little high, but the market was buoyant, and it allowed for serious offers. Our rate was 2% of the selling price so it was worth our while to get as much as possible for the property. Win-win really.

Mrs…. Actually, I’ll not use her real name, it could still go wrong, Mrs ‘Carruthers’ was quite an attractive woman, in her mid-thirties. No children, stay at home wife of a local freight company director. He was considerably older than her, I think she was the second Mrs ‘Carruthers’ and if I’m kind he’d married her for her personality, not her mind.

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