Steve Gets More Than A Bankloan…

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I wrote this story for Steve, and for Selynn, at their request. They wanted a permanent record of their initial meeting, and of how their relationship really exploded into life, after their first real date. It was Steve that told me Part One of the story (Selynn interceding with some of her own emotions as we talked). Part Two of the story is an account of what occurred after they arrived at Selynns’ cottage. As this then became a combination of the two, reliving the experience with me, it made sense to resort to the third person in the telling.


I’ve been involved in the tool hire business since leaving College. I’d graduated from Worcester Polytechnic Institute which was over on Institute Road. With the help and advice of the Business Advice Division at City Hall, over on Main Street, Worcester I had started my own company at 27; been working hard at it the last three years. The recession was a mixed blessing. A 12 month ago business dropped dramatically; companies found they couldn’t invest in new equipment and that it was cheaper short term to hire. My business started to expand nicely. Then of course the size of the equipment they wanted to hire started to get beyond me. I had started with chainsaws, electric power sanders, lawn mowers and the like. I grew into renting cement mixers, small generators, all sorts of welding gear; mig, tig and arc welders. We supplied top makes like Lincoln Electric, and Miller. Now a customer was enquiring about Traffic Road Safety equipment. Traffic equipment rental supply may include traffic lights, traffic cones, delineator reflectors, traffic barricades, various road signs and traffic signs plus other traffic safety equipment which enables them to reroute traffic.

I was in a quandary. It would be a great contract for me, but could I afford the initial outlay to purchase the equipment in the first place? I needed to give it a great deal of thought, and I would need advice. The customer was able to wait a few weeks fortunately. The contract was in its early stages and their involvement didn’t start for several months.

I surfed the internet; then hit the telephone to companies like Equicross and AirportOne to discuss prices, delivery dates, payment options, a hundred and one things. Within days I was sinking beneath piles of catalogues. Needing a break, I left the store in charge of my Store Manager and drove across town to my bank.

Bankers have been getting some bad press recently, most of it deservedly so, however to give my bank credit they had been brilliant to me in the early days of getting my business going. I had loaned $50, 000 to begin with, plus ran an overdraft facility of up to $20,000, which I had to use once or twice. Expensive but necessary.

I parked my Toyota Hi-Lux pick-up truck in a free bay just 30 metres from the bank. With my mind buzzing with figures, dates, T-top stacker cones, and stacking vertical barricades, not to mention Powerflare safety light power packs, I wandered up to the information desk. A young man, dressed in regulation suit and tie introduced himself, asking him if he could help. After I explained my problem briefly, he suggested I see their Small Business Advisor.

Taking a seat in their reception area, I sat and looked around. All the staff were well dressed; the men in suits, the women in a uniform of pale blue blouse and navy skirt. I felt quite scruffy compared to them. I still had overalls on, with just my battered flying jacket to cover a Simpsons cartoon t-shirt.

From the back office I watched a woman walk through the bank. She was beautiful. Dressed in a navy double-breasted jacket and matching skirt, a white blouse with a bow at the neck, and black heels, she looked cool and professional. Her blonde hair was tucked up in a bun, and her make-up was minimal but effective. She clutched a manilla folder to her chest. My mind was just switching from the automatic three phase traffic light system, to the swelling of the young womans’ impressive chest, when she held her hand out, and said,

“Steven Barclay? My name is Selynn Johannsen, I’m your business advisor.”

I stood, shook the outstretched hand. In the heels she matched my 6 foot height, making her something around 5’9″ tall in bare feet. Nice. I stared into her green eyes. Very nice.

“Shall we move into one of the interview rooms, Mr. Barclay? I’ll see what I can do to help you.”

I followed her back across the marbled floor, enjoying her generous buttocks swaying as she strode; confidently, towards a series of private glass screened rooms, outfitted with a desk, computer terminal and three chairs. A telephone sat on the otherwise empty desk.

Looking at her across the desk, looking so cool and professional; at home in the banking environment, confident and poised, well, truthfully, all I could think about was her sexy bottom and truly outstanding bust. I wondered what sort of bra she wore? What panties?

I myself wore a tiger print man-thong. Would güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri hers match? Perhaps she preferred a tanga, or bikini style, or, or…

“Mr. Barclay?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I was miles away”, I stuttered.

“Mr. Barclay, may I call you Steven? I was asking how I could help you today? Can I offer you some water? Are you feeling ok?”

You mean with my erection which is presently trapped uncomfortably by my thong you mean? Which came out of my mouth as,

“I’m ffine thanks, I need to borrow some money. A million should do it”.

Her green eyes gave her thoughts away. Crazy madman alert.

“I’m sorry, I meant to say I have a million things on my mind, I’m a little confused. Sorry. Shall I start again? I need a loan to purchase new equipment…”

Oh dear, poor choice of word. My mind switched gears to the poor piece of equipment I was packing. The one in my trousers. I wriggled, uncomfortably.

“To purchase new equipment?” Miss. Johannsen encouraged me.

Look at her lips as they say “equipment”. She is so horny was all I could think. Come on, come on, I mentally shook myself.

“I’m sorry. I’m not making much sense. I’m struggling to concentrate here. Perhaps you have some leaflets I could take away and read. Could I come back tomorrow and see you again?”

I was as nervous as if I was asking her on a date. This was ridiculous. Embarrassing.

A few minutes later, I was back in my pick up grasping several glossy brochures, and a business card, which read Ms Selynn Johannsen, Corporate Finance and Loans Officer. Holding it tightly, I closed my eyes and recalled her light perfume, which had intoxicated me in the small office. I may have fantasized about her breasts. And her arse. And maybe just a little about what I would like to do to her.

Half an hour later I was back in the office I kept at the rear of the store. I couldn’t get Ms Selynn Johannsen, Corporate Finance and Loans Officer out of my mind. I blame being single, and being too busy for the last 6 months to meet a girlfriend, but I’m embarrassed to say I cracked one off in the toilet next door to my office. I cleaned myself up, and hurried back into my private space to get some work done.

At 11.30 am sharp I was back at my Bank waiting for Ms. Johannsen to see me. She again looked immaculate in a knee length black skirt, knee length black boots, topped with a pale green long sleeved silk blouse over which hung a long black sleeveless shift. A gold necklace with a tear drop pendant filled the open neck of the blouse. She looked incredible again.

I was somewhat better dressed myself. I wore my one clean shirt, a tie I’d found at the rear of my wardrobe, and a pair of khaki drills. I’d even polished my shoes. The old fashioned spit and polish way my father had taught me.

And I had a plan.

Good morning Mr. Barclay, nice to see you again.”

“Please call me Steve, Ms. Johanssen. I apologise for my behaviour yesterday, I wasn’t thinking straight, my head was back in my store, you must have thought me an idiot.”

“You did seem a little pre-occupied, Steve” she said, a knowing look crossing her face. She wore a different perfume today, a little heavier, a little spicy.

“Ms. Johannsen, I think being in the bank intimidated me. I wonder whether we could go across the road to Starbucks, get a coffee, and discuss my business needs in a more convivial atmosphere?”

“It can be a little sterile in these interview rooms, Mr. Barclay, sorry, Steve I mean. A decent cup of coffee would be a welcome change too. The machine here spits out terrible stuff. I will have to let my team know where we are going. I’ll be back with you in a few moments.”

See. I told you I had a plan.

Starbucks not only provided us with two large mugs of Clover brewed coffee and a couple of Lemon sweet squares, but two squashy sofa chairs tucked around a table in a cozy corner of the restaurant. Ms. Johannsen, call me Selynn please, listened to me tell how my business had grown in the last 3 years, the opportunity which I had to take the business to the next level, and where I thought I could take the business beyond that.

She’d finished her coffee long before I had, and I called to the barista for two refills.

“Another lemon square?” I asked.

“A Red Velvet Whoopie Pie would go down well.” Selynn replied. I do love a girl with a healthy appetite. Women these days seem to exist on water and lettuce leaves. I’m not into women whose ribs stick out, a washboard stomach, and thighs as tight as a drumstick. As for silicone breasts… don’t get me started. That was one area Selynn had no reason to complain. Concentrate, Steve, concentrate, I cautioned myself.

When I had finished my presentation Selynn showed her professionalism by asking several pertinent questions, showing that not only had she listened, she had had some knowledge of the market I would be working in.

“Steve, güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri I will have to get you to fill some forms in, we bankers do love our paperwork you know. I’ll put your request up the line. Give me a few days to get back to you.”

“That will be great. Do you think it will go ok?”

“I will give my recommendation to your request. I cannot say any more than that. I will let you know as soon as I hear anything. Now I must get back to work.”

“Can I take the paperwork home with me tonight? I can make another appointment tomorrow to run through it all. Make sure everything is ok? Buy you another decent coffee?”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded her agreement.

We spent a few more minutes chatting whilst finishing our drinks. On the way out I dropped $5 into the Starbucks Create Jobs for the USA initiative. They tell you a $5 contribution will provide up to $30 of financial help. I gave the red, white and blue “indivisible” wristband to Selynn. I guess if Starbucks seeded the initiative with $5 million dollars, I can chip in the odd $5. We returned to the bank where I collected several pages of forms and, with a handshake, went our separate ways.

I really liked this woman. She seemed a really nice girl, very down to earth, and, once I could stop staring at her breasts, very easy to talk to.

The next day we were lucky enough to grab the same secluded seats, and asked the barista to bring us a couple of Cinnamon Dolce Creme Frappuccinos, and two Veggie and Monteray Jack Artisan Breakfast sandwiches.

This morning Selynn wore a charcoal tailored trouser suit, with a thin pinstripe in the weave. A cream silk blouse with a long tipped collar, and a large beaded pearl necklace completed the ensemble. Yes, ok I know what you thought. Yes it did cross my mind that I would love to give Selynn my very own pearl necklace. She was, is, a very beautiful woman, full bodied, with curves to die for.

Selynn worked through the paperwork quietly and efficiently, head down as she perused the sheets one by one. It gave me several minutes to look at her. I liked her hair which today she wore in a single pony tail, but still tucked up. Her feet were encased in strappy sandal high heels. Her nails were painted a pale pink. Very delicate. Her breasts were hunched up, caused by her position, and I could see a hint of what I thought would be a deep cleavage.

“Steven, are you staring at my breasts again?”

I jumped. Selynn glanced at me, a questioning look on her face.

I had imagined it. My guilty conscience playing tricks on me. Selynn glanced up at me.

“Sorry, coffee was a bit hot.” I smiled.

Another 15 minutes had ticked slowly by, when Selynn shuffled the papers back into a tidy shape, and placed them in the manilla file she had brought with her.

“That all looks fine Steven. The figures look good, and I am fairly confident of a satisfactory outcome. I did talk to my superior yesterday, and looking at your credit history, he agreed you put a good case together.”

“Fantastic. How can I thank you? You’ve done such a lot of work on my behalf.”

“You could buy me an Apple bran muffin. I am rather partial to them. I wonder though whether the bank would look at that as a bribe?” she laughed.

“More of a sweetener, I should think.” I responded. She giggled, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. And down the length of my cock.

“Selynn, I have a pair of tickets to see a “brown bag” matinee performance over at the Mechanics Hall on Saturday. Curtain goes up at 12 noon. I wonder if you would like to come with me? It’s the John Stein trio, I’ve heard they’re very good.” I asked tentively.

Selynn looked at me for a few moments, biting her lip in a thoughtful way.

“I’d love to Steve. Should I meet you outside the Mechanics Hall at 11.45am? It’s at the end of Main Street, isn’t it? 300 block?”

“How about we meet in the Ahh-Some Gourmet Coffee place just down Main Street. Say 10.45. Give us time to grab a coffee.”

Saturday could not come quick enough. I told my staff that I had a hot date, and that this Saturday they would have to manage without me. I was taking a rare day off.

We had a great time. Selynn looked really lovely in a long brown cotton skirt, and a cream peasant blouse patterned with tiny yellow flowers. She finished the outfit off with soft suede boots, very low heeled. It was a different Selynn to the one I saw at the bank. I liked the way she wore her hair, tied back in a loose ponytail.

It was a fairly warm and sunny day, with a fresh breeze. We walked along Main, into Franklin. City Hall looked majestic in the pale sunshine. We spent a very pleasant hour strolling through Worcester Park. Selynn held my arm as we strolled, her heavy breast pressed hard against my arm. It was difficult to concentrate, but Selynn was such good company that it soon felt natural. I impressed her with my knowledge of the 53 güvenilir bahis şirketleri parks that Worcester had. Elm Park is one of the nation’s oldest public parks. Designed by Frederick Law Olmsted, the Iron Bridge is probably the best known and photographed landmark in Central Massachusetts.

All too soon it was time for Selynn to make her way home. We had enjoyed a superb day. I didn’t want it to end.

“Selynn, do you like baseball? The Tornadoes are playing a Can-Am Championship game at Fitton Field tomorrow.”

“That’s on the Holy Cross College campus isn’t it?”

Not bad for a Boston girl I thought.

The date was made, and I made sure I bought some very decent tickets. Of course it was good to have a WOO card; gave me a decent discount.

I picked Selynn up at the Washington Square Bus Terminal, and we were quickly on the Interstate 290, south to the Hanover Insurance Park at Fitton Field. The game was pretty much a sell-out, with Twister , the team mascot, entertaining the crowd, as much as the players.

Selynn looked dressed for a baseball game in tight blue jeans, a lettered sweatshirt, and white Nike hightops. When she jumped up to celebrate a home run, I admired her sexy rear, and of course her generous breasts bouncing wildly. Her hair was again worn in a pony tail, but tucked under a Tornadoes cap I had bought her. We drank light beer, ate hotdogs and popcorn and generally had a joyous day. The Tornadoes won the game at the bottom of the eighth, so that was a bonus too. We stopped at The Boulevard Diner on Shrewsbury on the way back to Washington Square. Their meatloaf is famous in the town of Worcester. It was indeed delicious.

We sat in the truck, waiting for the bus which would whisk Selynn home. I leaned over to kiss her. Of course I banged my forehead against the peak of the baseball cap. We both jerked back, but then laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Selynn twisted the cap to one side, looking like a white rapper chick. It kind of suited her. We leaned together, our mouths meeting, my tongue invading her mouth, meeting her tongue, passions rising, breath shortening. I slid my hand onto her thigh. Selynns’ hand came around the back of my head, pulling me tight. I ran my hand up over the sweatshirt. I could feel the beginning of the swelling of Selynns’ breast resting on the top of my wrist. My hand rose, spreading my fingers to capture the whole of one globe. It filled my hand. God, the weight of it was magnificent. I was sure I could feel the nipple spearing my palm.

Sometimes things happen over which you have no control. I think my hand was on Selynns breast for perhaps ten seconds before her bus pulled into the stop, not twenty metres away. Selynn grabbed her bag, jumped from the truck yelling back,

“Brilliant time, Steve. Ring me tomorrow at work. Thanks, bye.” As she ran to catch her bus.

My cock stayed hard the whole drive home. In my room I lay on my bed, naked, my hand slowly stroking myself as I brought myself off. Pictures of Selynn flashed through my mind, but mostly I thought of the weight of her breast resting in my hand, and the promise of things to come. When I came, with a quiet groan, the spunk flew over my stomach, laying hotly in small pools. I slept deeply that night.

Unbeknown to me Selynn too had been turned on by our kissing. The vibration of the bus ran along her thighs and the tight jeans clasped her pussy lips together, seeming to push them into the gentle vibrations. Every minute, she was becoming more and more moist. It was a delicious agony, lasting all of the 30 minute trip home.

No more than ten minutes after leaving the bus, Selynn was in her shower room. After a quick rinse down, she played the power spray over her pussy lips. Spreading her puffy lips apart, she directed the spray onto her clit, the needles of water bouncing off the hood covering her clitoris. When the feelings had almost reached a peak, she pulled the hood back with the tip of her middle finger. The effect was immediate, and her orgasm crashed over her with the speed and intensity of a wave breaking against a harbour wall.

A little later she was tucked up in bed, a cup of green tea on the bedside table. This is no way for a 36 year old woman to act, she told herself. Steve is a really nice guy. Good prospects too. Could make a very decent living from his ideas. Good business head on him. And he is cute too. I do love the way he tries so hard not to look at my boobs. He kisses nicely. As the thoughts tumbled through her head, they were also having a useful effect on her lower regions. She was very moist. Dammit, she thought, I’ve not had sex with a man since I moved here from Boston. What, ten months since I transferred here.

With that, she reached into the bottom drawer of the bedside table, pulling out an eight inch black vibrator. She teased her lips open, which, as she was now very damp was an easy task. The first few inches of the vibe slipped inside. She really didn’t like the full length inside her; perhaps her pussy was shorter than usual. Six inches was normally filling enough. She teased her clit with a single finger. As her passions rose, she twisted the knob on the base of the vibe and switched it on. Powerful vibrations ran through her soaking wet cunt.

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