Sex In The Suburbs

By | April 15, 2008

We just finished watching a BBC 4 documentary about advertising from the late 1950s to 1980s. No, I don’t remember the early ones, and they are the most charming and cringe-worthy advertisements you can imagine. Ignoring the fact that they often promoted tobacco products, be that cigarettes, cigars, pipe tobacco or the rolling variety, all of which are banned from advertising in the UK now, they illustrate a different world from the one we live in.

Attitudes towards gender, sex and sexuality were so at odds with contemporary thinking that if I were to build a time machine and travel back to the 50s it would be like visiting a different planet. And yet in some ways so familiar.

Which is why I thought I’d write a story, something that I haven’t done for weeks because of all the other little projects we have going on at the moment. I alighted on the late 1950s, way, way before I was born, but a time that I have a great affection for because of the art and design of the period. Strange that isn’t it, how you can have an almost achingly nostalgic yearning to experience an age decades before you were born.

The 1950s in the UK were very unlike 1950s America. In the US the 1950s are often looked upon as a Golden Age, in the UK we were still struggling to recover from World War 2, financially, socially and psychologically.

And because of the scenario I think the story deserves to be part of the Disturbia series, even though it predates the other stories by 50 years.


The weak yellow light of a watery spring afternoon streamed through the net curtains into the smoke-filled lounge. The issue of a smouldering Woodbine hung in the air, blue-white drifts of toxic particulates painting a beautiful three dimensional canvass in the air between the two women, belying their ultimately deadly consequences.

Her visitor’s thin lips moved, she was talking, but Sarah didn’t hear the words. Sarah wondered how long it was since she had lost track of the torrent of “He said-she said” that was flowing in a seemingly endless stream from Edith’s mouth. God! The woman was a bore, and opinionated, and she smelled vaguely of urine, and BO, and carbolic soap.

Sarah found herself drifting, remembering the previous afternoon when her visitor had been much more welcome. She indulged herself in the memory, Edith was not one to notice that her audience’s eyes had glazed. She took it for granted that the vicar’s wife would command the respect and attention of her husband’s parishioners.

He had arrived with perfect punctuality as always. From his black leather shoes to his carefully combed hair he was every inch the man she desired. His suit was dark and well tailored, his voice educated and soothing. Underneath the clothing his body was firm and athletic, she knew it well from hours of exploration.

He had taught her things that her time with her only previous lover, her late husband, had not. He had been conventional, maybe even boring, though that was a harsh word to describe a man who loved her with all his heart and simply showed it in the only way he knew how.

The war in Korea had put an end to their marriage and left her looking for comfort. Her new lover had provided that comfort. And so much more.

He was polite on the doorstep, each greeting the other with the expected social niceties, in case the twitching curtains of the houses opposite should stir. When the door was shut however the mood changed as if a switch had been flipped and they were able to ignore the world’s expectations of them.

He kissed her hard, tongue probing her mouth. There was no love here, or even passion because passion required feeling and she didn’t delude herself that he had feelings for her as some of his other ladies did. No this was about being desirable, about being wanted, about being fucked.

He pressed her against the wall with the weight of his body, the force of his advance making the thin plasterboard construction rattle and shake. After a moment the fervent and breathless greeting was over. Sarah felt a little disappointed despite the pleasures to come, she had been enjoying the feel of his stiff cock pressing into her belly through the fabric of his suit.

He led her upstairs, striding before her, forcing her to almost break into a run to keep up, feet bouncing up the thin strip of carpet on the middle of the treads. He hung his suite and shirt on the hangers she had placed on the hook behind the door and stood in his underwear watching her undress. She knew he liked this part. His cock straining to be released and dribbling its anticipation created a gratifying bulge for her to watch while she slipped out of her silk blouse and dark blue knee-length skirt. She stood in her garter belt, bra and French knickers for a moment, adjusting a suspender. She was teasing him and knew that doing so would be rewarded with a frantic sexual animal.

Sarah slipped her knickers over her hips and let then fall to her ankles like a miniature ivory parachute. He stepped forward and pulled her towards him with one hand, kissing her again. The other hand slipped into the dark humid curls between her legs and found her clitoris. He stroked her with a dexterity that had her weak at the knees in a few seconds. Only his arm wrapped around her prevented her from collapsing to the floor. He was freshly shaved the smell of the soap mixing with his subtle manly odour.

He ceased his massaging of her clit and let her recover. She knew what he wanted. Slipping to her knees she removed his underwear and grabbed his thick cock. He wanted her to suck it, choke on it, let him fuck her mouth. But not today. She licked the end with her tongue, stroked the frenulum until his eyes rolled and took the glans into his mouth. Then she pulled back and starting with the slowest, longest of strokes began to wank him.

He watched her hand accelerate its strokes, her eyes looking up at him. She stopped every few seconds to lick him, applying some necessary lubricating saliva, then pumping away at his member again. “This is new!” he thought to himself. He began to feel himself approaching orgasm, imagining his cum spurting over her face. A leer formed on his lips. Sarah stopped and catching him unawares pushed him back onto the bed. She leapt on top of him, straddling him, her sheer stockings caressed his naked legs.

He felt his cock being guided into her hot, wet snatch. He was on the edge, ready to cum, wanting to grind into her. She was frantic, bouncing on his cock and cumming almost immediately, screaming for him to fuck her.

He came, copiously, but despite his euphoria he realised that the orgasm was for her pleasure. She came again as she felt her pussy filled with hot fluid and continued to ride him until he was too soft to contain within her. Even when his glistening cock had flopped out onto his own belly she rubbed her engorged clit and swollen lips along it, determined to extract every last drop of pleasure for her self.

“Thank you Mark.” Said Sarah as she dismounted her dazed and sated steed.


Sarah snapped back to reality as she realised that Edith was not chattering about the jumble sale that was her original reason for imposing on Sarah’s hospitality. Another ten minutes and the dreadful harridan had concluded her summary of her orchestration of the fundraiser and was on her way out of the front door.

“And we can count on you to make a special effort this year can’t we? The church roof is in such dire need of repair.” Said Edith.

“I always try to ensure I do my best for the church.” Replied Sarah, “Reverend Green is so, er, inspirational.”

“Mark does have a way of motivating people, I really don’t know how he does it.” Edith smiled what she probably thought was a sweet smile and bid Sarah farewell.