Epilogue

Three weeks had gone by since I had knocked on Em's door. Three weeks of denying that I was going to move in with them. Two weeks of waking up next to Ember. One week since I'd been back to my house. And that's what it was. A house. Em and Leia had a home and it shook me that they were actually welcoming me to be a part of it.

I still struggled with self-worth, but fuck it. This was a gift and I was going to take it.

Ember and I had long, drawn-out discussions of how to explain our relationship to Leia. We went online to check resources, we bought some books and talked about it endlessly. Em even wanted to roleplay answers to questions she might ask. In the end, she just told her mother that she needed to buy more Kraft mac and cheese if I was going to be eating with them every day.

I tried to be as respectful as possible of Jimmy's relationship with Leia. If he came over, I left my acoustic out and went for a drive or a walk. I'd often come back to see him using it as they played together. He continued his lessons with her, but so did I. Jimmy was first in her heart, and I totally got that.

The day after one of their lessons, I asked Jimmy to come back to my office.

"What's up, boss?"

"You remember the father and daughter band? Violins?"

"Sure. The Popplins. The father's making me an acoustic. Three-quarter size. It's a surprise for Leia."

"No shit? He any good?"

"Seems like. I've seen some of his other stuff and he makes the instruments they play in the studio and onstage."

"Well, that's cool as fuck. Anyway, the CD's Mike had gotten made for them, the money goes to a rehab center for vets. The father and daughter do a bunch of charity gigs and that's one of the places they play. I wanna do something for the venue. You're going to help. I, uh, I'm gonna rent a concert hall and we're gonna play."

"Dude, I... I can't do that. You know who I was when... Wait. What the fuck, did you just say 'we'? Are you playing? Is Fingers Franzetti playing out for the first time in almost thirty years?"

I took a deep breath. "Yeah. My life is... Better. I don't have that need to hide anymore. It feels right."

"That's...Wow. I don't know, that's crazy. This is gonna be your comeback concert? Reintroduce you to everybody?"

It wasn't going to be my comeback concert, but Jimmy didn't need to know that yet.

"Yeah, sure. It'll raise a lot of money and pack the hall. I'm gonna lean on you a bit, okay? It's been a while."

"Of course. Fuck. This is unbelievable. You gonna get the guys from Death Knight to play?"

I smiled. "No. This is about me."

It was actually about him.

"Well, whatever you need. I got you, man. Whatever I can do."

"Thanks. Appreciate it."

When Jimmy left I began calling venues and speaking to promoters. I wanted to wring every penny possible out of this for the rehab center. I got printers to donate promo material, radio stations were eager to get on board. I popped up on guitar forums and started talking it up and got locals to play for free. The only ones that weren't donating their time and services were the union crews, and that wasn't their fault.

So, yeah. This was a big deal for the center. We were even thinking about livestreaming the concert and getting donations that way. But that wasn't my only motivation. To be honest, I didn't give a fuck if I played in front of a crowd, for a few people in the studio or just for Em and Leia. This was about something else. I helped put an end to Jimmy's career. I owed it to him to give him a new start. And he deserved the fuck out of it. He had changed so much that it was almost hard to believe.

I didn't make my last call until almost 7:30 and didn't get to Em's until after 8:00. When I walked in Leia looked up and immediately grabbed the guitar she had sitting next to her.

"Mom! Alex's home!"

There was no moving. Standing there, I just stared at her and looked around, trying not to cry. It hit me like a sack of cement. Alex is home. This was home.

Em walked in and stopped when she saw me. "Alex? You okay?"

"I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

Wiping away the nascent tears, I walked with her into the kitchen and she put a plate of food in the microwave for me. Leia followed, grabbed my forearm in her usual weird way and started telling me about her day as I ate.

Each forkful took a while. I looked around as I ate, one part of my brain on Em and Leia and another on my surroundings. The furniture was old but comfortable. The refrigerator made an odd hissing sound and leaked water. Dinner was meatloaf with a mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes, and peas. I wiped my eyes with my forearm again. Em looked at me with concern, but I just smiled and gave her a small nod.

Chapter 71

My mother in law, or MIL, is a white haired former redheaded 76-year-old widow who lives in the North of England. She is a feisty individual and although the years are catching up with her, keeps herself active and regularly goes to the gym, chops up wood for her wood burning fire and is strong both in body and character. She is one of those you know not to cross unless you have a death wish.

She has said many times over the years I have known her, that she hates people who cheat on their spouses etc. and I have always been very cautious with her because of it.

She is an attractive lady, notwithstanding the many wrinkles. For a few years I had the hots for her but never dared act on it, or even broach the subject.

One day I remember putting my arm round her while we were looking at something and she didn't complain and actually put her arm around me. I have no idea what was going through her head, but for me I was tingling. I can remember every bit of the connection and enjoyed the feel of her body next to mine immensely.

That was the start, I think. After that, we got touchy feely towards each other, but that was as far as it went. We kissed and had a hug when meeting and leaving, always on the lips, but only a peck. This went on for about a year or more.

I enjoyed the connection and had lots of fantasies about what could happen, but it was an absolute non-starter. However, I pursued it in a very very low key way, because it was kind of exciting. The chase is often the most enjoyable part and I could do that without any real problems as long as I didn't overstep the mark.

I flirted, even if only very subtly and she seemed to like it. I remember saying "Hi gorgeous" when she arrived once and she commented that she hadn't been told that for years. So, I kept it up taking every opportunity.

We got closer over the months and I could tell there was a connection over and above the MIL - son in law thing. However, I still reckoned I would get slaughtered if I overstepped the mark.

When something is forbidden, it makes it even more attractive. That she was 'family', my MIL and that she would kill me if I tried it on, made it even more compelling and exciting than any regular attraction.

It always blew hot and cold. Sometimes she would be quite distant and I didn't push it. Other times, she seemed full on tactile and I just soaked it up. Looking back, I think she was conflicted between what she wanted and what she should do and kept reigning it in when she felt guilty, then letting her emotions take over again and get touchy-feely once more.

I was kind of the same, but because I never imagined in a million years it would amount to anything, so just went for it and enjoyed the whole thing. I have to say it was me pushing more than her, but she went along with it and welcomed it in the most part.

Occasionally I would go a bit too far, like the time I kissed her a bit too long and hugged her a bit too long. She told me we shouldn't be kissing and I took the hint and backed off for a week or so. But then she would get giddy again and I got back into it.

Anyone looking on would likely spot the connection between us, but my wife thought it all a bit amusing and never said anything really, although she once commented I got on better with her mum than her.

Anyway, we generally got on like a house on fire. We were pleased to see each other and I could tell in her voice she was pleased when I phoned her for some reason. Now this didn't square with her stated feelings about cheating between spouses so I was still very cautious in my approach. I had to make the assumption that there was a line she was happy to play along up to, but no further.

I started joking with her about French kissing as reward for doing things for her round her home. She blew me off but I stuck with the joke and eventually she would laugh rather than tell me off.

There were lots of little things happen which in themselves were nothing, but taken together in this context amounted to something. One occasion was when she wanted her feet massaging. My wife volunteered me, saying I would enjoy that. She was joking, but I actually did enjoy it and so did my MIL by the look on her face and the noises she made.

I had nearly half an hour of rubbing, and caressing and massaging and fondling her feet with foot cream, getting in between the toes. I reckon she would have let me do it forever. She had her eyes closed, head laid back and cooed the whole time. In my mind it was a full body massage and I loved it.

Another time my MIL was trying on some outfits for an event she was attending. Me, my wife and MIL were at the top of her stairs while she was selecting an evening dress. My wife had me zipping up and unzipping the dresses to assist with the process. One of them was zipped quite low and I took it all the way, which went down to her pants and beyond.

Every time I imagined I was helping her undress before we got naked together. She has a freckled back and I just about memorised every one as I unzipped as slowly as I dared.

What made it even worse was that her pants were lacy and see through. They didn't fit the image of a grandma. But I was discovering more and more, that what was on the surface was quite different than what was underneath, literally and figuratively.

The icing on the cake on that occasion was when she actually asked me to unclasp her bra as she wanted to try on a strapless dress and couldn't be bothered doing it herself, or so she said. I flicked it open with one hand in an instant which got comments from both of them. I was already having trouble keeping things calm in my trousers and that made it worse. I loved every second though.

I tried to position myself so I could catch glimpses of her undressing in the mirrored wardrobe doors in her bedroom, but no such luck.

Around Christmas, I wrote my car off and needed to buy another. My MIL helped me out by paying off my previous car loan which enabled me to buy a better car and one that I love. I told her she deserved a BIG kiss for that and the next time I saw her, I managed to get her on her own and told her she was about to get her reward. She broke into a huge smile and almost jumped at me, put her arms around me and I kissed her, closed lips, for what seemed like ages.

It went on and on and on to the point where I was wondering if I might try opening my mouth and turning my head sideways. She eventually broke off but we must have been there about 20 seconds which doesn't sound much but was about 40 times the norm.

I thought after, that that was what she wanted to do but couldn't normally, but the gift from her and my way of saying thanks gave her permission and she went for it. The next time we met I was looking for an opportunity for another such kiss but it was the opposite, she was quite distant towards me and I saw then, as I did other times, this hot and cold situation that I knew was the conflict in her.

Over time, the things that happened got more frequent and closer, but the pendulum swung the other way more extreme also. One day she would be very close and warm and then nearly bite my head off the next.

My MIL had a thing about others cheating, and the fact that it would be her daughter she was cheating on made it a million times more of an issue. However, one day it all boiled over in dramatic fashion.

I had gone round to her house for the day on my own to help clear the garage out. My wife was working from home and I had the day to myself with my MIL. When I went to the house, the door was unlocked so I went straight in. She was stood in the kitchen waiting and it seemed a bit strange.

I locked the door as usual and went in to say hello, which was normally the usual peck on the lips and a hug. This time was different. She came to me and lifted her arms and put them round my neck; we'd done that before a few times. But when I kissed her this time, she clung on for a second or two longer than usual.

When she broke off, I said "that was nice" and went in for another, but this one lasted longer. I broke off after about 5 seconds, knowing I was blushing but said that was even better. This time she went in to kiss me and stuck there.

After another 5 seconds we broke off and I said that if she did that again I would not be held responsible for my actions; that she was far too attractive for me to be able to control myself. She laughed then promptly went in for another.

When we broke off that one, I told her I love her kisses and couldn't get enough. Normally I wouldn't have dared say anything like that but I felt I'd get away with it given what was happening. She said she loved mine also and we kissed again but this time it was a snog rather than kiss.

We kept breaking off then going straight back in for the kill. Both of us were laughing nervously, with her telling me we shouldn't be doing this and me telling her I wanted to do it forever.

Very soon there was no pretence about what was happening. No more beating about the bush. We were snogging and we shouldn't be and it was completely wrong, but we were doing it anyway, both willingly.

I turned her so her back was to the kitchen units and pressed myself up against her, squashing her body between the unit and mine. I could feel myself getting an erection and so could she as I was pressing it into her. I kept kissing her lips and neck and my hands were up and down her back and eventually onto her arse.

For a 76-year-old, her body is amazing. It is pretty firm, if wrinkly in parts and not much droopy skin. I'd always admired her arse from afar and how pert and firm it looked. This time I had my hands on it, squeezing and using it to hold and pull her into me harder.

The passion had gone from minimal to 100% in about 2 minutes. I had only ever had firm puckered lips before this day but now they were soft, wet and open and our tongues were entwined. Don't ask me why, but my brain would never previously allow me to consider that anyone 'old' could be passionate.

I always imagined that they were way past that, that they were grannies and that was all over. What I was experiencing was a full-on passionate snog with a mature woman who was breathing heavy and kissing as hot as a teenager on heat.

It was all happening very fast. There was clearly a lot of pent up emotion coming out here on both our parts. As we kept on breaking off, I would tell her how much she was always in my mind, how much I wanted her, how attractive I found her, all the while going back in for more kissing.

The most memorable and exciting thing was hearing the noises she made. She was breathing heavy and as I kissed her lips and neck; she was making noises like I was fucking her. It just progressed from there. She was pressing into me, feeling my cock as I pressed it into her. All deniability about our intentions were now gone and we were both clearly doing stuff we shouldn't.

The issue that I think crossed both our minds, certainly mine, was where do we go from here? I don't know about my MIL but I hadn't really given such a scenario much thought. Do we make it sexual and physical, or leave it at the kissing stage? The answer was kind of answered when she reached down and grabbed my cock through my jeans.

That prompted me to put my hand under her top and cup her best. Her nipple hardened up very quickly and I soon had my hand inside and scooped out her soft C cup breast into my hand. It developed even more quickly from there and we were tugging at each other's clothes.

We'd clearly gone over the top at this point so I said let's go upstairs. As she took me by the hand and led the way, I could hardly believe this was happening.

We quickly got undressed and straight down to fucking. There was no foreplay; the nearest we got was when she took hold of my hard cock as I lay above her open legs, and she stroked it a couple of times as she guided me into her welcoming pussy.

She'd had both her hips replaced in the last 10 years and so I knew we had to be a bit careful. Notwithstanding, she was a very vocal, active partner. She took charge of the whole thing. She told me what she wanted, where she wanted it, how she wanted it and then did it all to me too. There was no stopping this woman.

There was no mistaking her orgasm either; half the street may have been aware. She is the noisiest partner I've ever had. But I like that. I held off as long as I could but came soon after her. I don't think we were more than 5 minutes max in total after we got upstairs.

We laid there cuddling for about 10 minutes then she got up and cleaned up but came back into bed. We kissed and talked for about half an hour. We both felt guilty but also had strong feelings for each other. It was an impossible situation as it would be devastating for many folks if our secret got out. So, we both vowed to keep it between us.

I wasn't sure if this would be a one off. But we both got aroused again and made love this time rather than a primal fuck. We took our time, but it was still intense and noisy.

This time I got to look at her naked and take it all in. We also got to mix up the positions a bit. We had to be careful not to spread her legs too wide but we got into a way of doing it, adapting what we might otherwise have done, so that we could relax in our love making.

Although my MIL had wrinkles on her face, there were very few elsewhere. Her breasts weren't pert but neither were they floppy. They were soft though and her medium sized mid brown nipples were hard when played with or aroused. Her breasts had nice separation between and looked wonderful hanging down on to my chest when she was straddled me and we kissed, or sat up impaled on my cock and grinding her groin into mine.

Her ass, although round and peachy was probably not as firm as it once was, but it felt good to hold, When I fucked her from behind, the slapping noise sounded wonderful and her arse moved in waves to my thrusts.

She was clearly aroused enough to be wet down there. Apart from putting spit on the head of my cock before I entered her pussy for the first time, she needed no additional lubrication and it was just like fucking a much younger woman.

Her pussy was not trimmed at all; her bush was short but wild. It was vaguely strawberry blond going a bit white and her full crinkly lips were clear through the fluff. They started off as closed before my cock went in but when we got to the point of doing it doggy, they were open and glistening with our combined juices. She wasn't tight down there like a teenager there but there was enough grip to make me think I was fucking someone half her age.

We took our time, experiencing each other, getting as close as could be. Age is just a number when you have a sensual, sexy woman in bed. This one is a live wire and experienced enough to know how to please and be pleased.

The wardrobes in her bedroom are mirrored. I positioned her, near the end of our session, so she was sideways on as I fucked her from behind. We both watched in the mirror as my glistening cock disappeared into her and her hanging breasts rocked with my thrusts. That was enough to tip us both over the edge to an explosive orgasm.

When I eventually pulled out, my cum dribbled out onto the bed and left a stain. She said she was going to keep it there as long as she could as a reminder. I actually took a photo of it later and then sent her a copy, which I think she appreciated or at least made her laugh.

We eventually got cleaned up and dressed and I went to finish the work I came here to do. Whenever she came out to see how I was going on, or I went into the house for something, we would quickly get into a passionate kiss. We were like teenagers who couldn't get enough of each other.

It was hard leaving at the end of the day. I wish I could have stayed over but that was not an option. A couple of days later we got chance for some alone time again and we spoke for an hour or so. We agreed that we shouldn't have gone there or done what we had, but we can't turn the clock back. However, within a couple of days we started back on the intimate kissing whenever we could.

She has turned into an outrageous tease. Whenever she gets chance, if with others around, she has me do stuff like give her neck a massage or feet, or help her choose clothes etc. where it turns into a very non-contact sexual experience. If we are on our own, she is pressing herself against me and fondling my cock and lifting her top to show me her latest underwear.

I have no one I can share this with and be confident it wouldn't get out, but I need to share. Hence this anonymised tale which is highly unlikely to be seen by anyone who would identify me or my MIL. My lover is a granny and looks it on the surface; butter wouldn't melt. But I know different. She is a sexy wildcat underneath the granny clothes and wrinkles. She enjoys sex, is very sensual and noisy when having sex and when the dress comes off, wears sexy revealing underwear.

I'm not sure where all this will go, whether it will fizzle out, continue or go nuclear if we are discovered. For the time being however, we are just trying to keep it under the radar, whilst flirting and teasing and being as discreet as we can in public. We don't want to hurt anyone, which we are probably destined to, but determined not to do. It's fun but serious and I find myself laid awake at night sporting a raging hardon thinking about my MIL and wish I was between her legs.

This story isn't over. It is very current and our first fuck happened only a week ago. I will update how it progresses.

Ps. My MIL has just turned up at our house in her gym clothes, straight from the gym. They are tight fitting and she is sporting a camel toe and her nipples are sticking out through the thin top. She is stopping for tea and has asked if I will give her neck a massage later. Oh dear, I know I will get a hard on; I need to get my wife out of the way or it will get embarrassing.

Chapter 72

She stood over me in her white string bikini, all curves, soft and womanly, tanned and mostly toned. I tried to avoid looking at the parts of her covered by the bathing suit but I wasn't doing a very good job. Because she sort of smirked and grinned suggestively, it seemed.

"Do you want some?" she asked, lowering a plate of cut strawberries close to my face. I couldn't see her eyes, hidden behind dark sun shades, but the toying curl of her full lips and the teasing tone suggested, hinted, that she might be talking about something besides strawberries.

"No thanks, Mrs. White," I replied, kicking my feet gently in the pool and looking away quickly—quickly, before my eyes bored a hole thru the flimsy material covering her privates.

"David, I told you to call me Ashley," she scolded. "It makes me feel so old when you call me Mrs. White." She straightened, raising her head to look off towards the hot tub for her kids, Jason and his sister Rachel.

"Okay," I said, not knowing what other response would be appropriate. I was kind of inexperienced with grown-up women. Pretty much inexperienced with girls my own age, too. Mrs. White was looking away across the pool so I stole a glance up at her crotch, only inches from my face. The thin triangle of white fabric was stretched tightly over the curve of her pubic mound, outlining her puffy pussy lips, riding up the longitudinal dimple between them. There were no prickly spots behind the fabric and I imagined she must have her pubes shaved pretty close. From the triangle, thin spaghetti straps hung over her curving hips to the slightly larger patch covering her bouncy rump. Glancing farther up, I admired her flat stomach and bulbous breasts, although they were somewhat obscured under her long dark hair. Her thick hair was so pretty, cascading off her dainty tanned shoulders over the strings of her bikini top. Jason's Mom was hot; there were no two ways about it. Surprise! How had I missed that? I guess most of the times we had met she was always dressed in baggy sweats and over-sized t-shirts, cleaning up their apartment, or cooking, or some other adult-type thing. Don't get me wrong, I had always thought she was pretty, especially her hair—but I had no idea just how hot she was until she was standing over me there in that white bikini on the first day of our beach vacation.

Craning her neck, she looked off towards the hot tub for Jason and Rachel. She walked several steps away with her plate of strawberries to get a better view and I continued my assessment, scanning her jiggly bottom. The white suit appeared to be a shade or two smaller than whatever she had been sunbathing in last and there was that line of pale flesh at its margins, then the tan of her taut butt cheeks. I ogled her bouncing ass, a little turned on but also somewhat embarrassed with myself. She was as old as my Mom, in her forties or something, I didn't know exactly. I didn't even know how old my Mom was. I just knew that Jason's Mom was hot. All of the other people at the pool were looking at her too—the teenage boys throwing the ball back and forth, the guys lying around on the lounge chairs, even the teenage girl sunbathers. She bounced down the stairs towards the hot tub and I sighed, my shoulders relaxing as she disappeared from view.

-

"How old is your Mom, Jason?" I asked, trying to appear totally unconcerned and nonchalant.

"I don't know, man," he replied. "Forty-four? Something like that." He was relaxing against the edge of the hot tub, leaning back, his arms spread wide over the sides. "Why?"

Rachel giggled, and I felt a burning in my cheeks and neck, hotter than the water covering me to my shoulders. Rachel was just seventeen, a rising senior, but I was only a year older and still not totally sure of my popularity and coolness. Just a big gangly teen-ager, growing into manhood.

"Shut up, Rachel. What's so funny?" I splashed her but she continued smiling smugly.

"Why do you want to know how old our Mom is, David?"

"Uhhh ..." There was no good reason. "I just wanted to see if she was as old as my Mom." Rachel gave me the yeah, sure look.

"Yeah, sure."

"No, really."

She tilted her head, peering at me intently. Jason raised his head—he was also looking at me funny. My good buddy, who had invited me to go to the beach for a week with his family.

"How old is your Mom?" Rachel was checking.

"Uhhh ..." I was afraid they were going to ask that. "C'mon, guys. I was just kind of, like, comparing your family to my family."

Jason's family was way cooler than my family. My parents were, like, boring and square. And Jason's Mom was super-hot, parading around in that white string bikini that was, like, less than ten square centimeters in total area. It was so thin her nipples were practically poking through it. She was sitting up there by the pool right now, heating up the atmosphere, speeding up global climate change with her supreme hotness. Plus, my parents would never bring us to a cool beach vacation like this one. They liked that stupid old golf resort where everybody was dressed in polo shirts. But not Mrs. White. She wasn't so hoighty-toighty like that—she couldn't afford it, I don't think. It was just her—there was no Mr. White, he had left a long time ago. The condominium we were in for the week was only two bedrooms and one bath—and kind of run down. But that's cool. If Mrs. White ... Ashley ... was going to be parading around in that bikini all week ... well, I could tolerate staying in just about any old dump.

-

Mrs. White was cleaning up after dinner ... in a flimsy white cotton pajama outfit so thin and loose that every supple movement of her body was amplified to the point of lightning strikes and galloping hurricanes. I was mesmerized.

"David, would you like some more tater tots?"

"No thank you, Mrs. White."

She flicked those smoldering brown eyes with a sizzling flash. "Ashley," she commanded.

I stared at my lap. "No thank you, Ashley."

"That's much better." Her smile dripped honey as she hustled the left-over taters into a plastic storage container. She was doing a good job, taking care of us, feeding us, cleaning up after us, reminding us to put on sunscreen. She bustled off into the kitchen. Then suddenly the sky fell, the moon spinning by in a flashing swirl. She was back, leaning over the table directly in front of me, wiping it clean with a sponge, her thin spaghetti strap pajama top falling open, displaying an amazing heaven on earth. Her natural breasts were fully exposed, from the freckles deep in her tanned cleavage to the milky white melon tips dangling towards the table. Her beautiful orbs shook slightly, trembling under their own weight as she swabbed the table. I held my breath, praying that the moment would never end. Time stood still. The textured edges of her aureole were just visible, pointed directly downwards. The pinkish irritated skin at the edges of her tan lines. Even the wrinkly lines of stretch marks were apparent, beauty marks extending directly down towards those nipples which were just beyond view. Oh. My. God. I could imagine those heavy breasts in my hands, could imagine those nipples in my mouth ... testosterone-driven thoughts that had never before appeared suddenly started racing from my hypothalamus. There was a twinge in my boxers—I wouldn't be able to get up for a while.

Way too soon she was finished and rinsing the sponge under the sink in the narrow condominium kitchen. Captivated, I watched her behind shake and jiggle under the short pajama bottoms. The shorts slid loosely across her bottom, coming down only as far as the white line between her tanned buttocks and the tops of her rippling hamstrings.

"Can I get you anything else, David?" she smiled, feeling my eyes.

I shook my head no, quickly looking towards the television. Jason was sprawled out across the pull-out sleeper sofa watching some mindless situation comedy and Rachel lounged near him in a reclining chair. We were all a little sunburned and tired, especially me, after a long day at the pool and the beach.

It was growing dark outside and I only wanted to lie down and close my eyes. Jason and I were sharing the bedroom with twin full beds while Rachel and her Mom slept together in a queen in the other bedroom. A small bathroom separated the two bedrooms—from my spot at the table I could see almost every square inch of the condominium. And almost every inch of Jason's Mom as she fussed around in the kitchen. She must go to the gym a lot or something. She was kind of small, about the same size as Rachel, but there was more meat on her body. In all the right places, where it jiggled and rippled nicely. Her breasts bounced around under a thin line of lace at the neck of her pajama top and I could make out the textured outline of her nipples. They were soft now, not like the little bullets that were poking out of her bathing suit earlier.

She cleared a few more things off the table, then she was at it with the sponge again, clucking about the table manners of teenagers. Her breasts wobbled around pendulously and I couldn't avert my eyes. Then I looked up and she was looking directly at me! She smiled coyly and there were crinkles at the corners of her dark brown eyes. She hovered another second before rising.

"I think I got it all that time," she said, walking back into the kitchen. My eyes followed her. But this time she peeped quickly over her shoulder, catching me. I hurriedly turned toward the television, reddening, I'm sure.

"David." Her soft voice was calm, expectant. I turned back towards her in the kitchen where she stood facing me, hands on hips. She was smiling, with a playful disapproving gaze.

"How does it look?" She nodded towards the table. Oh, my God! She was flirting with me, daring me to say she missed a spot. My eyes flicked over the table.

"Um, I think you missed a spot?" I surprised myself. Where I did get those balls from?

She hesitated for a moment, pretending to pout. But, playing along, she came back, stalking, looking at me hard. I was trembling, my heart fluttering. This time she bent over to wipe the table right next to me, leaning in low and close. So close her long brown hair brushed against my bare thigh. I could smell the clean scent of her shampoo and soap. Her breasts were only a foot from my eyes. She wasn't bending over deeply enough that I could see over the thin strip of lace to heaven—but she was so close to me that I could feel the heat of her body, could hear her breath. For only a moment, until she began to straighten.

"How's that now?" She smiled suggestively, winking. Rachel and Jason were oblivious, engrossed in the television.

I found my voice, barely. "That is good," I croaked in a just audible gasp. "Ashley," I added.

She touched my shoulder lightly, pressing with all her fingers. Then she was gone, leaving the remembrance of her body heat and scent, and a tingling spot on my shoulder. The door to her bedroom shut and I sat alone at the table with my hard-on aching in my boxers.

-

I stirred in the small bed, my lanky frame almost spilling over the edges. Sunlight was pouring through the blinds—it would be another beautiful day for vacationing. Sweet memories of Mrs. White literally filled my head as soon as my eyes opened—toying with me, playful in her sexy pajamas, intentionally bending down low to show me her breasts, flirting, leaning in close. I reached under the covers, feeling my flat and muscular youthful stomach, my hand sliding lower to my long thin penis, passing over my sparse pubic hair.

"Jason?" I whispered.

No answer.

Jason? Are you awake?"

No answer. Lying still, I watched his sheets rise and fall evenly—still sleeping. I stroked my semi-rigid cock to full hardness, trying to be quiet. Usually, I masturbated at least once a day, sometimes twice—I was good at it, able to get myself off as quickly or slowly as the situation demanded. This was going to be a quick one, and I wouldn't be able to enjoy it as much, trying to be quiet, but images of Mrs. White in her sexy pajamas would not stop flashing through my mind.

Mrs. White in the pool, her nipples pointing through the thin fabric of the white bikini, the darker area of her aureole clearly visible. Mrs. White bending over in the kitchen, pulling the tater tots out of the oven, her short pajama bottoms pulling up into the crease between her butt cheeks. Mrs. White cupping her breasts in her hands, slowly licking first one nipple, then the other, teasing me with her dark brown suggestive eyes. I stroked hard and fast, my erection forming a gigantic tent under the sheet. Mrs. White licking her lips ... Mrs. White looking at me from down between my legs, one hand wrapped around my cock, rubbing her hot pussy up and down against my thigh. I was close, straining, trying not to groan.

"Hey, man! Are you beating off?"

Oh, shit! I stopped, turning away from Jason's side of the bed.

"No."

"Yeah, right. Whatever man, it's cool." It really didn't matter—it wasn't like it was all that embarrassing. But it would have been nice to finish up before he woke up. I lay still, my cock slowly deflating back to normal. I could feel my heart beating down there.

-

Mrs. White was out of the bathroom, freshly showered, bustling around the condominium in a short white bathrobe, a towel wrapped around her head. She had smiled at me, a hint of our secret shared flirtation on her lips.

"Good morning, David."

I could barely make eye contact. "Good morning," I mumbled, before practically running into the bathroom, awkwardly bending to conceal the semi-rigid state of my dick. It was about to poke a hole through my boxers. If our vacation week continued like this I would have to find something more concealing to wear than cotton briefs.

Now I was in the shower, soaping up my quickly responding cock, eyes closed. Mrs. White was licking my nipples, slowly kissing her way down my torso. It was her hand on my dick, pumping back and forth—she was looking up at me, those seductive soft brown eyes advertising that she was dying to take care of me in unimaginable ways.

"David?"

Oh, shit! It was her. I quickly turned from the curtain to face the tiled side of the shower, covering my dick in both hands, ceasing the stroking.

"David, is it okay if I come in? I need to put on my lotions."

"It's okay," I said. Damn! I was never going to get a chance to jerk off in private. My dick throbbed and ached.

The door opened, throwing bright sunlight into the small bathroom.

"Sorry, I'll only be a minute. I forgot I left my stuff in here." I could hear her messing around at the sink.

"No problem."

"I promise I won't look," she said in a singsong voice.

"Don't worry about it," I replied.

"You can't see too much through the shower curtain anyway," she said, giggling, and I turned to look for myself.

Well, you couldn't see clearly through it, but you could still see. She was smoothing something into her face with both hands, looking closely into the mirror. Her outline was fuzzy, obscured by the colored shower liner, but I could see her neat form concealed by the robe, could see the towel wrapped in her hair.

"Sorry this place is so small that we have to share the bathroom," she apologized. "I wish I could take you guys somewhere nicer, but this is about all I can afford."

"It's okay, Mrs. White," I reassured her. "I like this place."

"Ashley," she reminded me with a cluck. "Thanks, David. Anyway, I hope you guys are having fun."

I kept my body mostly turned towards the tile—but allowed myself the luxury of gently pulling at my still hard cock, slathered in soap. Over the noise of the shower she couldn't hear a thing.

"You should plan on covering up in sunscreen if you are back out at the pool or the beach today. It's supposed to be a gorgeous day again."

"Okay." I watched her pour some lotion out of a bottle into her hand.

Jason and Rachel already were down to the pool—those guys were sun addicts. Myself, I was somewhat burned up from the previous day—I would definitely be applying the sunscreen liberally.

"You should be especially careful ... you already have a little sun burn."

"Okay, Ashley"

"Let me know if you want me to put some lotion on your back, okay?" She sounded like she really wanted to help.

"Okay, I will."

She was rubbing her own lotion onto her neck and upper chest—I could see her fuzzy reflection in the mirror. Her robe was coming open slightly.

"I won't be able to face your parents if I bring you home sunburned." Rubbing the lotion farther down onto her chest. Her robe was open—I couldn't see below the reflection of her upper chest because the mirror was high, but it was clear she was rubbing the lotion onto her breasts. She wasn't even looking into the mirror anymore—she was looking down at her chest. I stroked my cock, facing the tiles, peering over my shoulder at her form through the curtain.

"It's okay," I mumbled. My Mom could care less if I came home sunburned. All Mom cared about was her social status.

"What?" she asked, turning partially towards me, still focused on rubbing in her lotions. "I can't hear you over the water." Her robe was completely open at the top—the milky white of her full breasts clearly distinct against the tanned brown of her stomach and chest, even thru the obscuring shower curtain. She continued applying the lotion to her breasts, lifting them slightly to rub up under the hanging part.

"Nothing," I leered thru the shower curtain, my hard-on pulsing strongly in my right hand. I stroked it faster, hoping that she wouldn't be able to detect the motion. But she was oblivious, stroking her own body, massaging the lotion onto her flat stomach. Now she turned completely away from the mirror, leaning her bottom on the sink, focusing down lower on her stomach.

"I think we will go out to the movies tonight, if that is okay with you, David?"

"Sure." I was flexible. But my dick wasn't. It was rock hard, as inflexible as a flashlight. My right hand flashed faster back and forth over it. She wasn't paying attention, not looking, just like she had promised, focused on herself. Her own hands were rubbing lower onto her abdomen, just above the white untanned area of her pubes.

"So what kind of movies do you like?" She was looking down, rubbing into the creases between her labia and inner thighs. My right hand was flying now, the soap flecking off in frothy bubbles.

"Uhhh ..." It wasn't computing. My over-charged sexual tension was the entire world for this moment. Past the point of no return.

"What?"

"Ohh ..." I came, milky shoots of jism spraying out in silky ropes, mixing with the sprinkling shower, some flicking back up onto my hand as I furiously jerked my exploding dick, thrusting my hips, arching my back, my dick a towering spear. A spear on which to impale Mrs. White, to plunge deeply in and out of her smoldering red hot vagina. Thoughts of my ropy jism landing on her flat stomach ... splattering across her nipples as she laid back, legs spread open, toes pointed sharply in her own orgasm.

"What did you say?" She looked up from where her hands were busy down in her crotch.

"Ohh ... uhh ..." I tried to recover, shuddering as I squeezed the sperm from my throbbing cock.

"Are you okay? What are you doing in there?" Maybe realizing she was facing me full-on naked, she straightened, closing her robe, tucking the edges together, cinching the belt.

Chapter 73

I had turned from the tile in the spasms of my orgasm and was facing her, my hand still wrapped around my dick. Praying that she couldn't see me through the curtain.

"Nothing."

"Yeah? Nothing, huh?" She was smiling—I could tell even through the curtain.

"Yeah, just washing up." I held both hands over my deflating but still semi-hard cock.

"Okay ... if you say so," she said playfully, turning back to the mirror. "I'm not looking ... anymore."

-

I was no help at all during dinner. Like an idiot, I had spent the entire day in the sun but hadn't put on enough sunscreen. Now I was feverish and miserable, useless for anything. But I tried to help anyway, standing in the narrow kitchen in my thin cotton gym shorts, too dumb to do anything without being told.

"Poor baby," said Mrs. White. "Look how red you are." She pressed her fingers into my fried bare chest, leaving four white prints. "You should go lay down on the sofa while we get dinner ready."

Waiting for dinner at the dining room table, Jason gave me a you dumbass look. Rachel was sprawled over the couch—she even didn't look up.

Mrs. White was in her bathrobe again—we were planning the big night out at the movies and she had showered before starting on dinner. I was hanging around the kitchen hoping to catch discreet glimpses of her hot body as the robe occasionally loosened or slipped open. Already, I had figured out she wasn't wearing anything underneath but a pair of pink cotton panties.

"Go sit down," she had commanded playfully a couple of times. But it was way more fun to be close to her. I leaned against the sink, not really trying to stay out of her way. Actually, the kitchen was so narrow it was impossible to stay out of her way. She brushed up close against me a couple of times, catching me with her flashing brown eyes as she came unnecessarily near. I played it cool, hanging around in my gray shorts and roasting sunburn, enjoying our flirting game.

"Can I help?" I offered.

She smiled, pulling on an oven mitt. "Go sit down, I'm telling you." She opened the oven, directly across from me, standing off to one side a little to avoid the heat. Bending down to peer in, her robe came open and I was treated to yet another unobstructed view of her pendulous dangling breasts in all their glory.

"What do you think?" she asked, nodding to the chicken baking on a cookie sheet in the open oven.

"Looks great to me," I replied, eyes resting on her milky white bosoms.

She paused for a moment, evaluating the chicken. "I think it needs a few more minutes."

"Yeah," I agreed, caring little about dinner. She lingered a moment longer, then quickly looked up at me, catching my eyes down her open robe. But I was growing braver and didn't look away this time. Jason was watching the television and his Mom was facing away from him anyway. Rachel wasn't paying the least bit of attention.

"Yeah, what?" she asked, smiling, still leaning over the open oven door.

"Huh?" Now I looked into her smiling brown eyes, crinkled at the corners.

"Yeah, what?" she repeated, still leaning over with her robe open. Through her cleavage I could see straight down over her stomach to her pink panties.

"Yeah, it looks great to me," I smiled, meaning every word.

Smiling, she closed the oven and rose, straightening her robe, pulling it tightly closed. But that mattered little—she had been closing it every few minutes, it just kept coming back open. So I would hang around a few more minutes until it just loosened up again ...

"Listen, big boy. You really should go sit down," she scolded, cocking her head to one side flirtatiously. But I wasn't leaving ...

A few minutes later she was in the oven again after the chicken. This time she went after it from the opposite side, so that she was facing away, instead of bending over towards me. The kitchen was so narrow that her behind bumped against my hip.

"Out of the way, please!"

But I just moved a little closer, so that I was more directly in front of the oven and even more in her way. She rose, pulling on the oven mitt, then bent again to reach for the chicken. This time, her butt came directly into contact with my crotch. I didn't say anything and neither did she. She just paused for a moment, pretending to get a better grip on the cookie sheet. And then pushed back against me, grinding her butt up against my crotch, aiming perfecting so that my flaccid dick was wedged right up between her butt cheeks, nuzzled at the entrance to her sweet juicy heaven. She rubbed against me for a second, then straightened, turning towards me with a cookie sheet full of delicious smelling chicken.

"Oops," she said, smiling broadly. "It's kind of warm in here, isn't it?"

-

There was no way I was up for a movie night out. During dinner, my fever spiked even higher—I retired to the couch to rest and recover from my sunburn.

"You're an idiot," Jason admonished.

"Whatever, dickweed." I didn't care to argue, lying under a sheet in my shorts, red and burning up.

"Okay, guys. No fighting," Mrs. White intervened.

"Mom, I still want to go out—I don't care if Dave is too stupid to wear sunscreen." Rachel said. Sometimes she was a compassionless snake. But it was my own fault—I should have kept re-applying the block.

"You guys can still go out," I offered. "I'll be okay. I can chill here by myself and watch TV." Rachel and Jason looked to their Mom for her answer.

"Why don't you guys just go out and I will stay back to take care of David?" Mrs. White offered. There was a good idea! There was some mild arguing but it was shortly agreed—after she gave them the car keys and some cash.

A few minutes later the door clicked shut and I was alone with Ashley. At. Last.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" She was finishing the last bits of clean-up in the kitchen.

"No, I'm okay."

"Alright. Give me a couple of minute to get my jammies on and then we'll find something to watch."

She picked up the television remote control and fiddled for a moment, but it didn't seem to be working. So she switched on the tube by hand. The television was an older unit, perched on an entertainment center several feet off the floor. At about the same level as my head, as I lay lengthwise on the sofa reclining against a pillow. She pressed the button to flip through the channels for a moment, before settling on a sit-com.

"Is this okay for now?" she asked, and I nodded silently in agreement.

"I'll be right back. And I'll try to find a movie for us to watch," she said in a perky motherly voice, probably feeling guilty that I had gotten so sunburned in her care.

"Okay."

Off she hustled into her bedroom, closing the door loosely behind her. But it was swollen with humidity and the age of the place and slowly it swung back open. Lying on the sofa I had a clear view into her bedroom. She stood, back to me, rummaging through the upper drawer of a dresser on the far wall, still in her bathrobe. Then finding what she was looking for, she quickly slipped the robe down off her shoulders. Her hourglass figure was revealed from the rear—her tiny waist, the swelling curves of her hips, the white of her bare bottom, the few extra pounds jiggling. Swiftly she slipped the white pajama halter down over her head and the white tan line from her bikini top disappeared from my view. Her fleshy bottom rippled as she lifted first one leg and then the other to pull on the short bottoms. In all too brief a moment her naked beauty was covered again. She turned and I looked back toward the television, pretending to be engaged. She bustled back into the living room, breasts bouncing under the thin top, the texture of her soft nipples showing. She was carrying a jar of aloe.

"I want you to put something on your burn, okay?"

"Okay." I wasn't arguing.

"Can I get you anything before I sit down?"

"No thanks, Ashley—I'm good," I replied, moving to sit up, making space for her on the sofa.

"You're fine—you don't have to move, sweetie," she said, motioning that she would take the chair.

Damn!

She handed me the aloe, plopping into the recliner.

"We'll watch this for a bit, then I'll find something else, okay?"

I nodded, stretching out, not really having an opinion, curled up under the sheet, the aloe jar forgotten in the pillows. Feeling dozy, sunburned and tired ... the fading light of the sun comforting me through the floor-to-ceiling blinds over the glass door leading out onto our narrow balcony.

She sighed, sinking into the recliner, exhaling the relief of a well-earned rest after a busy dinnertime catering to three mostly unhelpful teenagers. "Whew, I'm kind of tired anyway. I don't know if I could've stayed awake thru a whole movie."

A minute later ... "You really should put some of that lotion on—okay, sweetie?"

"Okay, Ashley." I was out of it, eyelids drooping. The canned laughter from the sit-com droned on, the ceiling fan hummed fast. It was hard work, vacationing with the Whites—how could Jason and Rachel still have the energy to go out to the movies? All that sun and swimming ...

From far away, I heard her voice ... "David?" Then felt her hand on my foot, shaking me a little under the sheet. "David, are you sleeping? David, honey?"

"No, I'm still awake." I rallied, shaking myself awake, pulling back from far away. It was just me and her—our time alone ... I couldn't let it go to waste, falling asleep like that. "I'm awake." She laughed, sweet bells ringing. I raised my head to look towards her, curled comfortably on the recliner. "What?"

"You're falling asleep!"

"Yeah, I guess I'm kind of tired."

"Do you still want me to find a movie?"

"Yeah, that's great." I struggled from under the sheet, rising to a sitting position, determined not to squander my time alone with Ashley. Fumbling with the aloe, I started smearing it half-heartedly on my chest and arms while Ashley fiddled with the remote, quietly cursing it. The sit-com droned on. The aloe was cold on my burn under the fan and I shivered.

"I can put some on your back." Her voice was less mothering, a little hesitant, more timid than earlier.

"Okay."

She rose, taking the aloe jar. Stupid laughter still whined from the television. Apparently, the remote was not working.

"Lie down." This time with more authority. I laid face down, curling one arm under a pillow, turning my head so the television was still visible. Friends. Rachel and Ross were on again, off again. Not so important. More important was feeling Mrs. White kneel over me, her left foot and knee behind my left knee towards the back of the sofa, some of her weight resting on my legs, the rest balanced on her right foot on the floor.

"This might be cold." Kindly, she rubbed the aloe between her hands a little to warm it, but I shivered nonetheless when she touched my shoulders.

"Sorry!"

Her touch was business-like, smearing the lotion in deeply and well, covering my shoulders, spreading it evenly. Her fingers worked the cream in efficiently, economically, with experience, the way a parent covers a child. Gradually, she worked her way lower, rubbing in brisk circles in the center of my back, making the lotion disappear. I could feel the tension in her legs gather as she worked, trembling slightly. Then, as she began to relax somewhat, I could feel her body sink lower, more of her weight coming onto my legs. Pausing, her hands left me momentarily as she dipped her fingers back into the aloe. Sighing and uncomfortable, she finally allowed herself to relax onto me completely, sitting mostly on my right thigh, her left leg folded and tucked behind mine on the couch, her right foot still on the floor.

"Is this okay? Sorry, that was uncomfortable balancing like that."

"It's okay." Of course it was okay. Mrs. White was touching my legs with her warm booty, her hands kneading my back. She ran her hands up my sides, still engaged in spreading the lotion evenly.

"You are so lean, David." Her voice mixed envy and desire, so said my imagination. Starting at my shoulders again, her touch became a bit more tender, rubbing sensually, no longer at the organized business of treating a sunburn. My penis stirred in my shorts and I tried hard not to rub my groin into the sofa. Now she was slowly working her thumbs into the crease of my spine, her fingers spread towards the sides of my back. And it only felt natural, part of the rubbing, when she started to slowly grind her crotch against my thigh. Her fingertips were kneading the muscles of my shoulders, grasping and releasing, slowly and steadily. And thru her pajama bottoms I could feel her pussy, warm and damp. First it was ever so slightly, lightly, just barely touching. Then her hands were to my sides again and I sensed her leaning closer to me, felt her hot breath on my neck, the pressure of her crotch against my leg increasing. Her hair fell against my back and I felt her lean even closer. Inadvertently, I groaned in pleasure, not sexually, but just enjoying her hands on my sides, her wet cooch brushing against my leg—and she suddenly leapt up. The fan cooled a moist spot on my right thigh where her pussy juices had soaked through her pajama bottoms.

"Okay, I think that's good," she said, "it's getting really hot in here." Smiling and maybe embarrassed, she fanned her forehead. I ground my hard-on into the sofa.

-

"Damn this thing!" She shook the remote, pointing it towards the television and pressing buttons fiercely. She was back in the recliner—and I was trapped on the sofa, unable to slip from under the sheet because of my rampant erection. Damn teenage hormones—sometimes my dick would get hard if the wind blew on it.

"We can just watch this," I said, trying to alleviate her frustration.

"It's not working," she said, "this place is sort of run-down, isn't it?" She sighed, placing the non-functional remote on the end table. Slipping off the chair, she crawled across the carpet to the television. I stopped paying any attention to the television and watched her supple form cross the floor on all fours, slinking in her thin white pajamas. She pushed at the television buttons, switching the channel, resting on one hand and her knees, feet in the air, toes pointed at the ceiling. The short pajama bottoms left nothing to my imagination—even in the dim light I could see the white untanned lines in the creases between her butt cheeks and upper thighs. Her labia were hanging, little dark buttons on either side of her pajamas bottoms riding up into the dimpled crease of her vagina. She was in captivation to the television, flipping channels, poised, back arched, her bottom pointed right at me. The halter top fell away from her breasts and I had a full view of those too, pendulous orbs hanging towards the floor, swinging slightly as she flicked the channels, backlit by the television.

"There is nothing on ..."

Baseball, talking heads, news, cartoons—she was reaching the end of the dial. Nature programming, black and white movies, more sports, fast cars ... and suddenly, naked people having sex!

"Oh!" She paused on it for a moment. A middle-aged woman, maybe a few years older than Mrs. White's age, was getting it served to her from a somewhat younger guy—the woman was obviously having a good time, lying back on a sofa as the muscular man boned her mercilessly, skin slapping noises.

"What the hell!" She flipped to the next channel, talking heads, looking back over her shoulder quickly with a guilty embarrassment. "I can't believe that was just on the TV! I hope you didn't see that?" Laughing, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Wait, can you turn that back?"

She looked back at me with mock disgust, peering over her shoulder, her back arched, full breasts scraping against the floor, her rounded bottom begging to be fucked.

"I can't let you watch that. Are you kidding me?"

"C'mon, Ashley. I'm a big boy." Smiling.

She intentionally turned the knob the wrong way, flipping to a newscaster. "Look, it's over anyway."

"No, you turned it the wrong way."

Flipping back the other way, there was the woman, head back, her eyes closed, toes pointed at the ceiling, cock sliding in and out of her juicy pussy ... squelching noises and moans of pleasure filled the room.

"Oh my God! How can this even be on the television?" She was incredulous, still poised on her knees.

"Leave it on!"

"David ..." Her tone indicated disapproval but she left it on anyway, watching from her close vantage as the porn stud slowly worked his swollen horse cock into the woman's vagina. The camera moved—seated next to the sofa in a chair was another man, watching the couple fuck and stroking his erect dick, which was much smaller than the first man's horse cock. The woman was obviously enjoying herself, grunting and groaning, eyes closed. Yet another man's voice came from off-camera.

"How do you like watching your wife get fucked like that?"

The man playing with his dick looked up towards the off-camera voice, smiling, nodding his approval and the woman opened her eyes, reaching over toward him. The stud kept ramming his dick into her, skin slapping and smacking.

Mrs. White made a sound of disgust but she didn't move to change the channel. She was engrossed, eyes wide.

"Oh my God!" she repeated, "can you believe these people?" She was mostly exclaiming to herself so I didn't say anything in reply. I was hoping and praying she would just leave it on—my dick was a raging mess, straining to leap out of my shorts.

And my prayers were answered. Without taking her eyes from the television, Mrs. White crawled over to the couch and took the end opposite me. Clutching a pillow tightly, she curled up, her knees tucked in close to her chest.

"Cool, Ashley. You picked an awesome movie!"

She didn't look at me, just glancing briefly towards the wall clock, before back to the television intently. "Don't tell Jason and Rachel," she commanded in a low husky voice.

The woman beckoned towards the man playing with his penis and he came over onto the sofa with her, sitting so that his penis was near to her face. And she started sucking his dick while the other man fucked her mercilessly.

"That's it. She needs two dicks," came the voice from off-camera.

"Oh my God," Mrs. White repeated again. She settled lower into her corner of the couch, stretching out slightly so that her feet came over towards my side. Illuminated only by the television, it was difficult to see her face clearly and I didn't want to stare. But she was definitely engrossed in the ménage à trois and it seemed one of her hands had slipped down between her legs, although her body was somewhat concealed by the pillow. I said nothing, stretching my feet out from the low couch onto the floor, giving Mrs. White plenty of room to make herself comfortable. Grunts and groans of pleasure from the television filled the apartment. Inconspicuously, I tried to arrange the sheet over part of my lower body in an attempt to obscure my rampant boner, which I am sure looked like a tent from Mrs. White's perspective. But she was engrossed in the carnality coming from the television.

The woman was paying close attention to her husband's penis, her neck bent so that she could suck him off while the other man continued ramming his huge dick into her pussy. Her saliva ran down over her husband's dick, dripping around his scrotum, and he ran his hands through her hair and over her face lovingly.

"Oh, my ..." I heard Mrs. White sigh. She had settled even further into the couch—now her feet were reaching me, touching lightly against my thigh. She was almost completely reclined lengthwise on the couch, a pillow behind her, another clutched tightly against her body. I squeezed against the far end, pressing my lanky body into the arm so to give her as much space as I could. Whatever she needed to be comfortable. Her hand was definitely moving around under the pillow—I could feel her body movements through her feet, now kneading softly against my leg.

Chapter 74

The husband's penis popped out of the woman's mouth with a 'smuck' noise and he rubbed it over her cheek as she tried to suck it back in again, willing, mouth open like a baby bird. Skin slapping noises rose from the contact between her thighs and the stud's hips as he continued impaling her on his rod. His strokes were becoming shorter and faster, more rhythmic and compact.

Ashley was squirming under her pillow, both hands concealed, but clearly down in her crotch. I stole a sidelong glance at her—her head was turned towards the television, her face silhouetted in the dim light. Her full lips were parted and, as I watched, her eyes closed, her head rolling straight back, her mouth opening further in pleasure. She was masturbating and enjoying it! No way—I could not believe this was happening. Not wanting to tip the balance, I laid absolutely still, stretched out against the arm of the sofa, my engorged penis twitching under my shorts. On the television, the wife took pleasure from her husband and lover, the latter sweating and grunting as he pumped against her in ever faster strokes.

Ashley's feet were kneading harder against my thigh and I stole another glance back towards her face. The pillow had shifted somewhat and now I could see her hands, busy between her legs. With one hand she was pulling her pajama shorts to one side—and with the other she rubbed her vagina in slow circles. As I watched, she stopped rubbing. Using her fore and middle finger, she spread her labia widely apart, her clitoris popping out from under its cloaking hood. Quickly she brought the other hand back in, rubbing again against her clitoris, now slightly faster. My view of her vagina was now obscured by her hands but pleasure was apparent on her face. A low moan escaped her lips as her head rolled back, eyes closed. I turned towards her slightly, shifting my body somewhat so that my back was pressed up against the arm of the sofa. She wasn't even watching the television anymore—full-on masturbating, one hand spreading her pussy open, the other rubbing furiously—carrying on as though I wasn't even there, eyes closed tightly, mouth open. Her right hand rose slowly up over her navel, trailing gently upwards, pushing her pajama top up, then un-covering her breasts. She kneaded and pulled at her left nipple, her body tensing up under her own touch. As I watched, she opened her eyes and looked down over her breasts, smiling slightly when she saw me staring back in rapt fascination. Her foot slipped up my thigh, pushing towards my raging erection. And then her toes were pressing against it, sliding up and down over my cock, held tightly under my thin shorts. She closed her eyes again, no acknowledgment that she was touching my cock with her foot.

Grunts and groans came from the television; a low moan came from Ashley. I turned towards her yet a little more, tensing my pelvis and pushing out, increasing the pressure of her foot against me. She continued to rub her pussy, eyes closed, right hand pinching and pulling on her left nipple, stretching and pulling it erect. In concert with her masturbation, her foot rubbed up and down lengthwise over my penis, riding up the base of my member in the groove between her big and second toes. I was aching and throbbing, my dick hard now for over an hour.

On the television, the woman's lover was getting ready to come—his grunts were short and fast. Suddenly, he pulled out and a stream of milky sperm shot out of his horse cock, landing on the woman's stomach and breasts. She spit her husband's cock out for a moment to smile up at her lover, spreading his come over her breasts.

Ashley moaned. "Oh my God!" She was watching the man's twitching cock as he shook out the last drops of his jism onto the woman's puffy red vagina lips. "That is so hot." The woman's husband was anxious to get his dick back into her mouth—he rubbed it over her cheek, all swollen and red, wet with her slobber.

Ashley's eyes closed again and she threw her head back, rubbing between her legs furiously. Her toes pressed down hard into my cock and I pressed back, arching my hips towards her. It felt wet and sticky down there, my pre-cum leaking out into my shorts.

The husband grunted and Ashley and I watched as he thrust his cock deep into his wife's mouth, holding her head tightly, trying to deliver his semen. She pulled back, opening her lips so that his milky come ran out, running back down his dick, pooling around his balls. Popping his dick all the way out, she spit a big wad of thick white come onto the head, then licked it back up, drop by drop, staring up into her husband's eyes, jacking him slowly. He grunted, thrusting his dick through her hand, one hand in her hair, holding her tightly. She had turned onto her side to service him—her lover was still sliding his dick around on her hip and ass, sometimes pushing it down to her pussy lips, pressing against the opening, smearing come around.

Ashley groaned loudly—she was coming too now. She pulled her foot off me, raising her legs, bent at the knee, spread-eagle, her toes pointed. With one hand she rubbed her clitoris furiously—with the other she finger-fucked herself, her arm wrapped around her leg from the back. Her eyes were closed, head turned in towards the couch cushions, biting her lip. Grunting and groaning, her body shook and quivered, and her breasts flopped from side to side. I watched as she worked through it, her movements gradually slowing, her body relaxing, legs coming back down, her feet reaching back out to me. Her eyes came back open and she looked up sheepishly, a rueful smile spreading across her face.

"Oh my God, I can't believe I just did that in front of you."

I said nothing, just smiling cheekily.

"David, you can't say anything about this to Jason and Rachel, okay?" She looked at me seriously, relaxing but still rubbing her pussy with one hand. She pulled her pajama top back down over her breasts with the other.

"Okay," I replied.

"This is so embarrassing."

"It's okay, Ashley," I reassured her. "I'm not going to say anything to them." But to remind her where we just were, I pressed toward her slightly with my pelvis, just enough to bring my rock hard dick back into contact with her foot. She may have got off, but I was aching. My penis flexed involuntarily when it made contact with her foot and she reacted with a smile.

"You poor boy—you must be so horny right now."

I didn't need to say anything, just pressing my dick into her foot. She sat up, retracting her feet.

"Lie down," she whispered, motioning for me to swivel my feet up off the floor onto the couch. Needing no encouragement, I did exactly as she asked, not knowing what she planned, but hoping ... wishing ...

She scooted towards me, resting her pussy on my shins. I could feel her raw heat and dampness. Her long brown hair spilled off her shoulders, framing her pretty features—I could just barely make out her eyes in the dark. They were twinkling, glowing, full of fire and energy. Her hands were on my legs, then tugging at my waist band—I lifted my hips and she quickly tugged my shorts off, my erect penis bobbing and flopping up onto my belly.

"You are never going to say a word about this," she ordered, her voice low and threatening. I nodded in agreement as her hands quickly found their way to my penis. Cupping my balls in one hand, she stroked with the other, pointing my dick up towards the ceiling. Immediately, I started groaning involuntarily, thrusting my hips upwards towards her, as she settled between my legs.

"Look at that big dick! You are dying to get off!" Ashley brought her face close to it—in the dim light from the television I could see her dark eyes examining me closely, looking at my cock with a hunger.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she continued, slowing stroking my cock, fondling my balls. I was about to come—my dick was so sensitive after watching her, all the teasing and tempting.

"Oh, look at you—you're going to come aren't you?" She was smiling; she could tell I was there. Her stroking sped up, her hand tightened on me, and then I was coming, my sperm shooting up in thick sprays.

"Oh," she said, her smile broadening. My hot come splashed over my belly; dribbled back down over my dick and her hand. She kept stroking, squeezing hard, concentrating on my spurting dick. I was moaning, my cock pulsating and throbbing. Waves of pleasure spread from my cock, reaching out to every inch of my body paralyzed in orgasm. My hips shook and bucked. No way—Mrs. White just beat me off! Gradually, the orgasm receded and still she worked at my cock, stroking slow and steady.

"That felt good, huh?" I opened my tightly clenched eyes and she was looking up at me from over my penis, smiling. I smiled back, nodding agreement.

Her expression sharpened slightly. "Look, I'm serious. You can never breathe a word of this to anybody. I'm feeling so guilty, right now." Her face was worried, but her hand didn't leave my cock, still tugging and massaging. I squirmed in her grasp, my dick a bundle of sensitive nerves.

"I promise—I will never tell anyone." Finally, I found my slightly squeaky voice.

She smiled again. "You better not!"

I didn't want her to feel bad. "That was awesome, Ashley!" I sure didn't feel the least bit guilty.

"You don't think I'm perverted, do you?" she pouted.

"No, of course not." I vigorously shook my head negatively.

"I'm sorry—I just got carried away. I got so horny watching that woman get fucked like that." She was still pulling gently at my cock, her eyes glazed, so close I could feel her hot breath on its base. My body jerked involuntarily and she suddenly seemed to realize my dick was still in her hand.

"Sorry, sorry—let's get you cleaned up, okay? Before Jason and Rachel walk in on us!" She bounced up in her skimpy pajamas and ran into the bathroom, bottom shaking. The water ran for a bit and then she was back with a hot wet washcloth, wiping my now flaccid penis, clucking and cooing in a maternal way. Relaxing, I let her wipe me, closing my eyes, basking in the afterglow of a wonderful tug job from my best friend's Mom. Oh my God! Mrs. White just beat me off! Yes! She even slipped my shorts back on, pulling them up until I lifted my butt so she could pull them over my hips.

"Did we get you all covered up with aloe?" Mrs. White was back on her best behavior, looking out for my welfare.

"Yes, Mrs. White," I teased. More clucking and fussing as she turned on a light. The television droned on—the porno had ended, but, just in case, Ashley turned the channel back to the sit-coms. And a few minutes later, there was a noise at the door and Jason and Rachel returned, full of youthful energy and excitement about their movie. I was pretty excited about my own evening, but in a more relaxed, more mature sort of way. Definitely more mature ...

-

Just before we said goodnight and went to bed, Ashley whispered one last caution. "Never a word, okay?"

"Yes, Ashley," I whispered back with a smiling wink.

"Remember—our little secret ..." She leaned close, pressing her breasts into me, pulling me down close to her. Standing on her tippy toes, she spoke softly, discreetly, huskily into my ear, her breath warm on my neck. "Our little secret—especially if you ever want it to happen again ..."

Chapter 75

It was a feeling more than something I saw. But I paused and took a slow look around. No one was looking at me and the only other customer was a lady about my age pushing a cart through the Produce department. There was that young man with the tool belt sitting on the floor working on one of the display cases. On the back of his jacket it was printed "Jakes Air-condition and Heat." However he seemed to be engrossed in his work.

I moved on to the melons and picked one up to smell it. Holding in both hands in front of me made me look like I had three boobs. I'm size forty-four double D. My breasts are well rounded and my nipples stick straight out even at my age. I'm sixty five now and enjoying life to a small degree.

Up until five years ago when my husband died we were just getting into an all new way of life. We started having sex with other seniors and as hard as it is to admit I was enjoying the thrill and excitement of have a different man show some affection for me even though it was short lived, a few hours at a time.

My husband showed much interest in me after one of our swinging forays. He would make love to me two or three times a day for as long as a week after. I was up to it but he was not.

Toward the end Robert was more content to watch me doing what ever with how ever when ever. During our married years Robert never showed much interest in anything other than screwing me missionary style. Once in a long while he would play around and want me to jerk him off and then when he was about to cum let him shoot into my mouth so he could see it. This only took place a few times over more than twenty years.

However one of his great pleasures was to watch me suck off the guy and so it so Robert could see him come in my mouth.

Well enough of this that was then and this is now five years later. I have not gone back into swinging and have only had sex with a couple of men since I became a widow. For me it was just not the same and even though I did enjoy swinging with out Robert it was not the same.

However something was bugging me and it was some what upsetting. I could feel eyes on me, male eyes and I could feel someone lusting after me. It was a strange feeling yet it was almost arousing and erotic. If I had not been in public I would have rubbed myself to see if was wet. I felt as if I was and this was very different and well exciting at the same time.

Again I looked around and that is when I noticed a small window high up on the wall. It looked like a one way mirror so that the meat and produced departments could be watched.

I pushed my cart out of sight and waited a few minutes to see if anyone came out from the back. It was only a few seconds before a tall young man with a meat cutters apron around his waist came out with a tray of meat. He was cautious not to be to obvious as he filled the meat display. Yet he did turn so he could see me around the corner.

We met eye to eye and he knew I knew it was him that had been him that was watching me. Pushing the cart away from me I walked straight up to him and said "Who are you and why were you watching me?"

He took his time before he spoke. He let his eyes roam over me like a water fall. Nothing was missed and them he smiled.

My name is Walter Gorge. Five years ago I was just home from the Army and I saw you and your husband with my mother and dad. Harry and Marcia Gorge.

I saw it all and was surprised at everything my parents and you did. I remember you. I thought you were so beautiful and as I watched from the kitchen. I did not want to walk in on my parents. So I watched and I got so excited watching you. I wanted to rush in and join in the fun so I could. Well have some of you. I left and went back to my motel room and masturbated thinking of you.

I never told my parents and I never saw you again I for got about it until I was you here today."

I felt something for this boy and said "I hope you'll keep this to yourself. My husband died shortly after that and I never kept up with that life style." I paused and after a second or two I said "I'm Gloria Silver."

We stood there for a few more seconds and then he said "Gloria would it be out of line if I asked you to meet me for a drink after work. I would love to talk to you. My Dad died also and Mom lives alone now. Meet me at the Corner Street bar at six. I'd love to hear more about my parents back then. Will you?"

It was a surprise to me yet I stood there looking at this young man and said "I will." I turned and pushed my cart to the front of the store and left.

I went home and sat blankly looking at the bedroom walls not seeing anything. In my mind I tried to remember the party with the Gorge's. For a few moments nothing came to mind then I remember Mrs. Gorge, Marcia Gorge was a tall lean lady with dark hair and petty face. I think Robert got turned on by her. He always said he loved my big boobs but I seem to remember him giving her much smaller breasts a lot of attention. I think she was one of the few women in our twelve

Swinging parties where Robert actually screwed some one. I remembered how I was doing my best to make Mr. Gorge come with my mouth

all the while I was watching Robert screwing the wife. As hard as I tried I could not remember how the evening ended.

Other memories flashed and flittered into my vision as I saw some of the more sensual parties. One that came and went was my first group party. That was the first time I had two men enter me at the same time. Neither was Robert and later Robert told me how excited it made him watching with a cock in my mouth and another in my pussy doggie style. I never told Robert how excited that made me.

I showered and dressed in fresh under garments. A little perfume here and there along with my best uplifting bra. Along with a low cut blouse to show a lot of cleavage and I was all set to go and meet Mr. Walter Gorge. He looked no more that twenty seven or eight and if I remember he wore a wedding ring. I had not looked but I think if remembered one. We'll see.

I parked on the side of the bar. I had not been here in years but if my memory served me right it was owned now by a school mate of mine. Larry, Larry Newsom yes that was it. I wondered if he would see me or even remember me. I had not seen him in thirty or more years. Time goes by so quickly.

It was dimly lighted so I took a moment standing to side allowing my tired old eyes to adjust. I saw Walter coming my way. He as a tall shadow back lit by the lights at the long bar.

"I'm so glad you came. Please I have a boot there in the back." He said.

He took my elbow and guided me towards the deep shadows. I slipped into the curved booth and Walter got in from the other side and slid around to be close. A waitress magically appeared and took our orders. Walter placed a hand on my arm and again expressed his pleasure that I kept my word.

He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. I did not pull away. He said "You're still a very beautiful woman. I remember you like it was yesterday."

I laughed and said "I think I may have been naked then. Just how much did you see or should I ask how long did you watch us. I think my Robert was very interested in your mother."

He said "Like I said I had just that day returned from the Army. I knew Mom and Dad did not have room for me at home so I checked into a motel and then just drove over to surprise them. I was the one surprised.

I had heard a few rumors about our town having a swinging group but I had no idea it was mostly seniors and my parents were part of this group.

I came in through the back and heard the voices and music and took a look before barging in."

I said "you must have been very surprised not only to see your parents naked but ... well with another couple."

He said "I remember you were the first one I saw. You were sitting with one leg over the arm of the sofa and my Dad was standing next to you. You both were watching my Mother and your husband. But my eyes were fixed on you. I love women with large breasts and yours were so beautiful and the nipples were pointed. Even when you were kneeling in front of my Dad I still have eyes for your breasts."

The waitress came with our drinks and we took a moment out from talking. I was deep breathing already and needed a time out. I slid a few inches away from Walter and looked up at him.

The waitress returned and I wondered why so I looked up to see two women standing there. The tall one was of course Marcia Gorge and the shorter one with full round breasts and a wide tightly confined ass in a pair of jeans was introduced as Walter's wife Toots.

I was so taken back I could not speak for a moment but finely said "Walter, what is this. I thought this was going to be just you and I. Why are they here?"

It was Marcia that filled in the gaps and brought me up to date on current events and the life style these three were living.

All three lived at home and all three engaged in sex when ever the urge arose. I was now between Walter and his mother who was asking me to come over to the house for a drink. What she really was asking was for me to join these three in a wild sex orgy. I told them I did no longer went into swinging and I thought it was not my cup of tea."

Each time I found a reason to say no one or the other found a way of making me think otherwise.

Maybe it was Walter's hand and fingers rubbing the back of my neck but after a while I gave in and followed them to their house. There was another car already in the drive with a man standing next to it.

Walter said "Gloria this is my friend Norman we were in the Army together."

A hand was held out and I took it "Hello Gloria glad to meet you."

I could see the whole picture now. Walter had arranged this little party as soon as I said I would meet him. So now it was going to be three women and two men having the time of their lives. I wondered how long this had been going on. As I looked around I saw Toots hug Norman and rub his crotch. This was not a first for any one except me.

The wall between the master bedroom and the guest room had been knocked out and a large round bed was in the center of the room and a movie screen hung from the wall. There was a movie camera on a tripod aimed at the bed sitting in the corner. Above the bed was another camera and a lot of lights.

I asked if they were going to film any of this. Walter said "Not if you object. I would love to record us together. I really do want to watch you on all fours bending over me. I know this is a bit much for you but we really do want you to join us. Mom remembers how willing you were back then and how much Dad loved being with you. You can stop any time you wish."

I said nothing and as soon as we were relaxed every one started getting undressed.

Walter dropped his shorts and his cock sprung out like a large snake. It was long solid and tipped with a long pointed head. I could see Walter was ready for what ever came his way.

Norman was equal except his cock was thicker and the head was flat and bigger around.

Toots was short with an ass as wide as any I'd ever seem. My guess was that Walter was an ass man and fucked if regularly.

Marcia was tall and still slender with smallish tits with long pointed nipples. She was a pretty lady and I could see excitement in her eyes. Walter came and put an arm around my shoulders and turned me so we both could see the other three on the bed. Norman was on his back his thick cock hard as an iron rod pointing straight up. Toots sitting on one side with her plump little fingers around his cock jerking it up and down. Marcia was bending over so Norman could suck on one of her long nipples.

As we watched Walter pulled my hand to his cock. I took it in my hand and so many memories came rushing back.

I watched as the three moved around so Toots was between Norman's legs with his cock in her mouth and Marcia was on her back with her head between Toot's legs. I had seen girl on girl before but this some how was more of a turn on then I remembered. Walter and I moved closer and I was motioned to squat down so I could pleasure Walter while he wanted the others enjoying themselves.

I noticed a red light come on on the camera in the corner. I thought I did not want to be in a sex movie but I did not stop doing what I was doing. I could feel Walter getting harder and I knew he was aroused and liked what I was doing. Walter turned so I could see the show on the bed. Marcia was busy licking Toots and fingering her ass. Norman was helping by bouncing his ass up off the bed.

Walter pulled me to my feet and had me get up on the bed on all fours. My knees were on the edge so Walter could get up close as he aimed his wonderfully hard cock at my wet and hot pussy.

I let out a grown as Walter pushed his cock into my tight unused pussy. His was the first cock I had in almost two years. He was also be far the youngest and biggest cock that than ever been in my pussy. I squealed and wiggled my ass uncontrollably. I was on fire and for someone my age I was in heaven. No wonder so many women my age fuck younger guys. I let out a few "Oh Gods "and felt the juices from years of neglect run freely down my legs.

Walter grabbed my ass and rammed into me with more cock than I had ever had in my life. I thought he was all in but not so. He had lots more to shove up my cunt when he was ready to cum. His cum was molten hot and he had so much I felt it splash out around his cock to join mine running down my legs. Holy fuck this was the party of all parties. I was again going to be a swinger and in the movies.

I had almost forgotten about the other three but as son as Walter pulled out of me Norman was there to replace his cock.

Walter laid out on the bed so he could watch me get fucked and at the same time his Mother leaned over and licked his cock clean of our joint juices. I had never seen a Mother suck her own son's cock and it turned me on. If should have revolted me but it sure as hell did not.

Toots came over close and for a brief moment Norman pulled his cock out of me and let Toots suck him clean. When Norman returned his attentions to me I felt his cock rub up over my ass. I had not had a cock in my ass n more than five years. And Norman's cock was so thick I started to say "No"

But then Toots pulled a jar of K-Y jelly out and applied a generous amount to my ass shoving some in as well.

Norman follow up by grabbing my hips and pushing firmly but not too fast until I felt the large flat head pop into my ass.

I let out a moan of pleasure on pain as he slowly pushed and pulled more and more until he was well up into my bowels.

Marcia said "Fuck her good Norm. Gloria you'll love his cock in your ass." Toots said "Fuck her ass. Fuck her ass good."

I moaned and pushed back into him. Norman picked up speed and started to ram deeper and faster until I screamed that I was coming. Norm rammed deep and I felt the heat of this load fill my ass.

My head was jerked up by my hair and Walter's cock was forced into my mouth. Walter was coming filling my mouth as Norm filled my ass. I would have screamed with joy if could have. I had never done deep throat but this was as close as it could be. There was cum in my ass, come going down my throat and I was coming like never before.

As soon as Norm pulled out of my ass Marcia was on his cock licking and jerking the last drop out of it. Toots rolled me over and dove between my legs licking my cunt of every last drop of Walter's cum. She licked my cunt and ass till I was nearly shaking with passion all over again. But some how we all managed to get straight and sit apart from one another.

We all got cleaned up and found our way still naked to the Den where Marcia fixed drinks. Walter said "You were marvelous Gloria. I got so hot watch Norm fuck your ass I had to cum and your mouth looked so sexy I had to come in your mouth."

No one said any thing as they were waiting for me to answer. I just smiled and said "It has been along time." I did not say how much I loved it. The feel of two cocks coming in me at the same time. Christ how much better could it have been? I did smile at Marcia and Toots. I wanted them to know I enjoyed them as well with out saying so.

Norman stood by the window looking out as if here were deep in thought. Walter asked "Norm, something bothering you?"

Norm turned back the face the room his cock half hard again. I could not take my eyes off it. I had not enjoyed the sexual attention of one man let alone two for so long I was still feeling the rush of open uninhibited sex. Lustful, greedy wanton sex. At my age I thought I might never feel this way again.

Norm said "I've enjoyed sex with Marcia and with Toots and a few more that will remain unnamed. However this evening with Gloria here to share our sexual get together seemed to bring the best out in each of us. I can only say I hope Gloria will see her way clear to visit us again one day soon."

Each of them looked at me raised there glasses and in a single toast the cheered me. Walter walked over to the TV and turned it on. In a few second the bedroom appeared and the five of us in all our naked glory. I saw my self on my knees sucking Walter's cock while the other sucked each other on the bed behind me. I blinked and said out loud "Oh God would you look at me."

Marcia said "I want to see it all the way though. I want to see the expression on Gloria's' face when Norm pushes his fat cock up her ass."

And so it was I was once again into swinging and for an old broad I thought that was pretty fucking great.

Walter said "Look at me." I did and he had his mother bend over the sofa and had his cock in her up to his balls. Toots laughed saying look at me. I did and Norm had his fat cock up Toot's fat round ass. So I did watch and I took a long look trying to figure where I could jump in.

Chapter 76

Robert's eyes were almost closed but still he struggled, hanging on to that last sliver of consciousness like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a bit of flotsam. But she was making it hard, almost impossible to stay awake. The vision of the large soft breasts that first ensnared him now danced inside his drooping eyelids. Her musky perfume filled his nostrils, tranquilizing him when he should be terrified. Her voice was cooing and inviting, promising him repose ... and relief. He could no longer push away the soft hand on his cock, massaging him, stroking him, making him want to come so bad. Still he resisted. He knew, somehow, that as long as he did not orgasm he was not lost. That was her teasing almost irresistibly tempting offer: let her make him come, give in to her touch; give in to the terrible sweet drowsiness that would melt his will into hers.

How did this happen? How could he have blundered from a difficult relation with his pushy girlfriend into this nightmare? If he had only known that Dr. Ruth was not just a psychologist, but a hypnotist! He had always feared hypnosis, sensing in his depths perhaps, that he was vulnerable, especially to a woman. That was his problem with Debra; he could never stand up to her. He made good money but her constant demands for expensive gifts kept him nearly broke. He suspected she knew about the trust fund that would vest when he was twenty five and had plans for him to make her pregnant so he would have to marry her. He knew he should extricate himself from her clutches before she sucked him into the mistake of a lifetime, but never quite could.

That's when he decided he needed psychological counseling to give himself enough backbone to send Debra packing before she triumphantly presented him with her bulging tummy. He had been taken aback by a woman with a figure and stature like Dr. Ruth, who greeted him in an erotic parody of medical garb and heels that made her still more imposing. But she had seemed so sympathetic, so motherly as she ushered him into the dimly lit office and had him sit down in such a way he could almost see up her smock. He was embarrassed to find himself constantly losing his train of thought, distracted by her large breasts and the flash of thigh flesh as she crossed and re-crossed her long, stockinged legs.

She let him talk about his weakness, how Debra made him do things, asking to describe the techniques Debra used to manipulate him. Before he knew it, she was paraphrasing his story back to him, explaining to him how weak he was, how vulnerable to domination by a woman, especially a woman with large breasts like Debra's. It was so unfair of Debra, making him stare at her breasts until he was so horny she could do anything she wanted with him. Debra knew that he could not keep his eyes off a pair of large, bouncy breasts when she unbuttoned her top, that he would stare at her breasts and listen to her voice until he was floating, feeling dreamy and sleepy, his mind open to her commands.

Only at the last moment did he realize what was going on: Ruth was hypnotizing him. But by then he was at a disadvantage. He did not know when or how she had pushed down his trousers and had a hand between his legs, doing wonderful things to him as she spoke. He fought her intrusion into his mind with all his waning strength. But a delicious weakness was flowing into his body and brain, borne on her fingers and lilting words. But he was still holding out. He had to hold out!

Then he felt it: the exquisite, insidious pleasure had loosened his mental grip just momentarily. That was enough. A tremble, a slight rictus and the reflex began, quickly gathering strength. She felt it too, too, and stroked him slightly faster. "That's it Bobby! You're going to come ... so good. You're going to let me make you come. Don't fight it, Bobby. Poor, sleepy baby. You know you want to come ... so bad. Come for ME Sweetie. Come and sleep. Come ... to sleep. Come ... to sleep. Come, Bobby!"

It was over. At her final command, Robert felt the orgasm well up and wash away his last grip on his senses. He did not explode; her manipulation of his sex had been too gentle. He overflowed, helplessly, embarrassingly if he could have felt embarrassment. He did not spurt; come dribbled and oozed into her hand from his softening prick. Not a little, for she had been stimulating him too well and too long. On and on, she encouraged, one gooey dollop after another trickled into the hand that continued to slide up and down his deflating penis, milking him, draining him. "Such a good boy, Bobby. Such a lot of nice cum for Ruthie, all your cum. Empty. Sated. Now Ruthie's baby can go to sleep. Sleep. Sleep, Bobby. Sleep for me." As the light of consciousness faded, the last word the young man heard were, "Goodnight ... baby."

*****

The next words Robert heard seemed to come much later. Light streamed in a window with frilly curtains. Robert felt warm and safe and snuggled up to the large, soft, feminine body that held him close. "Oh, is my sleepy baby awake?" Robert felt a hand between his legs. "Oh, I think so," the voice chuckled. Such a good boy, always ready to make Mommy happy."

Robert naturally did not wonder where he was or how he got here. He was with Mommy Ruth and he was happy that he had made his Mommy happy.

"I believe Bobby is ready to make Mommy happy again. Would you like to do that, Bobby?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Does Mommy's baby want to make Mommy really, REALLY happy?"

"Oh yes, Mommy. How?"

Ruth smiled. "You know how Mommy likes you to kiss her boom-booms." Where had he dredged up that infantilism for her breasts, she wondered.

"Yes, Mommy. I like top kiss your boom-booms."

"I know you do, darling. Well you can kiss Mommy other places to make Mommy feel good, Sweetie," she smiled adding a little mystery to her voice.

"Where, Mommy?" Ruth's answer was to push his head down to her waist. "In your belly button, Mommy?" Robert giggled.

"Yes, start there, Baby. Mommy likes that. Oh, yes! Just like that." Ruth was glad that her navel was getting reamed by the long hard tongue of a healthy young man, even if he thought he was a child. It was making her wet again.

"Mommy likes that a lot, Bobby. Now a little lower." She gently pushed again.

"Mommy, you have hair down there!"

"Yes, Baby, I do. That's Mommy's 'pussy.' Do you like it?"

"Oh, yes. I like it Mommy, but it tickles my nose."

"Just push it aside and keep kissing Mommy. Yes, Oh God Yes!" Ruth gasped.

"You smell funny, Mommy."

"Yes, Sweetie. That's my special 'Mommy scent' because I'm really enjoying the way you kiss her down there. Do you like my Mommy scent?"

"Uh huh. ... Oh, Mommy, you taste good!"

Ruth was in heaven. With little prompting Robert was licking the wetness from her pussy lips, then moving, teasing and playing with her. His bitch girlfriend had apparently trained him to muff munch. Her loss. Ruth could feel an orgasm approach and his tongue hadn't even touched ... "Yes BABYYYYYY!"

Ruth screamed in ecstasy as the climax hit her. Hard. She always came hard when she was well eaten, but she seldom squirted as she just felt. This boy was amazing, a natural submissive, eager to please. He has just tongued her to a shattering climax, lapped up her juices, and kept going. She could hardly believe her luck. A naïve and soon-to-be-rich, baby-faced stud had walked into her office and practically asked her to enslave him. She almost laughed aloud watching his knees grow week as he stared at her in her mini-smock and well-displayed breasts. She made sure he saw a lot more of those puppies. He was so ashamed of getting an erection as she shot him the beaver while they talked, that he paid no attention to her subtle induction. How easily she slipped him into a light trance and pulled down his pants. Bingo! His cock was already dribbling precum. No man had ever been able to resist her once she got her hand on his prick.

Oh, the boy had put up a fight -- cute but ineffectual efforts that she soothed away with her hand on his sex. And when she made him come, he went under deep. She had no trouble taking the sex-dazed young man home with her for a night of mind-bending sex. In fact, she could not resist having him escort her, his arm around her waist like a young lover in the thrall of a mature woman -- as he was, but in ways passersby could not suspect. Conditioning him had been even easier than she expected. Because of his amazingly quick recovery, he was soon horny again after each bout and ready to be fucked into another trance, deeper each time. And this perfect treasure with his head between her legs was HERS. The possibilities were astounding.

She touched his chin to look into his alert but uncomprehending eyes. Robert was startled, but quickly saw that Mommy had screamed with pleasure, not pain. Pleasure he had given her. He waited happily as Mommy panted several minutes before she could speak.

"Such a good baby," she sighed, still a little out of breath from the strong climax. "You make Mommy Ruth very happy, Bobby. I'm going to keep you for my baby. Do you like that?"

Robert nodded. He had never considered that Mommy would NOT keep him. He was relieved.

"You know, Bobby, you are such a good baby Mommy's going to play a game with you. Do you want to play a game with Mommy?" she asked, adjusting her breast to allow Robert to nurse more comfortably. Ruth had been surprised and embarrassed the first time she let a boy kiss her breasts and MILK came out. That boy had been a bit scared by it, but Ruth soon fond that most men loved it. Better, she discovered it seemed to make them docile and malleable. She was using her breasts and her breast milk to take advantage of men even before she learned explicitly how to hypnotize them. She let Robert suckle a few drops of the soothing milk before continuing.

"You are Mommy's big baby, right Bobby?

Robert looked up and nodded without removing his lips from her nipple.

"And I'm your Mommy."

Robert nodded again, a little confused by Mommy's questions.

"But you are such a BIG baby that to other people, you don't look like Mommy's baby at all." Robert listened, trying to understand. "So we are not going to tell them you are my baby."

Robert frowned, but Mommy Ruth kissed his forehead and returned his lips to her breasts and let him be happy again. "It's alright, Baby. When you are alone with me, your will be my sweet little baby, but when we are with other people, Bobby, we are going to pretend you are a grown up."

Ruth chuckled to herself leaving Robert in the dark but unconcerned. He was going to be playing a game with Mommy, making people think he was a grown up."

"Yes, Bobby, other people are going to think that you are Mommy's handsome new boyfriend and Mommy's friends are going to be so jealous."

Ruth laughed in anticipation and Robert did too, although in his present state he did not know what "jealous" meant. Ruth could hardly wait to show him off. Susan, whose balding husband seldom screwed her more than once a week, and Janet, whose perpetual boyfriend had to be bribed with BJ's and threatened before he would go down on her, would drool when they saw Robert. And they would kill to have a prick like Robert's to keep their horny cunts satisfied.

"And there's another really fun part of the game, Baby," Ruth said, an idea forming in her mind. "I think I am going give you a baby brother of sister to play with. But you'll have to take care of him or her. Will you do that for Mommy?"

"Oh, yes, Mommy. I will. I promise!"

"Good boy. And do you know what else, Baby? Mommy is going to let you HELP Mommy make her new baby. Mommy's new boyfriend is going to make her pregnant," Ruth added squeezing Robert half-hard cock

"Really, Mommy? Can I do that, Mommy?" Robert asked excitedly, not knowing about "pregnant," but willing to help Mommy make a baby."

"Oh, Baby, can you!" Ruth replied with a rather un-motherly growl that Robert did not pick up on. "You may have, already!" she muttered under her breath, running a hand into her soppy pussy where the remains of several shots of Robert's thick cum were still leaking out. She had hit the jackpot with this one!

"How, Mommy?"

"Oh, don't worry, Baby. Mommy will show you exactly how. It'll be so much fun for Baby – and for Mommy!"

"OK, Mommy. What do I do?"

"Oh, you don't have to do anything, Baby. Mommy will take care of everything," she cooed and began to massage Robert's prick more vigorously. "Do you like that, Baby?"

"Oh, yes, Mommy. It feels good. What are you doing?"

"I'm playing with your 'thingie,' Bobby. You're a big boy and a big boy likes to have his Mommy play with his thingie, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, Mommy!"

"I know you do baby. And Mommy likes it too. Mommies love to play with thingies like my Bobby's. We like to make thingies feel really good so they will get really big. Do you know why, Baby?"

"'Cause you love me, Mommy?" Robert asked hopefully.

"Oh, yes, Baby. Mommy does love her big baby." "And his horse cock," she thought. Even though she had spent the night fucking him, Ruth was getting excited again as she saw Robert's penis growing longer and rounder. He was amazingly well hung for such an otherwise small man, long and thick the way she liked them. Involuntarily she licked her lips. She was tempted to take him in her mouth right there. She had enjoyed his smooth, tasty cock the night before, but had discovered he had little control when his penis was surrounded by a warm, sucking, feminine mouth. She wouldn't mind another mouthful of his cum, but she had bigger plans for this load of sperm. She felt her pussy juicing up.

"But that's not the only reason, Baby. When I make your thingie big and stiff, it is going to help Mommy make a baby."

"Really Mommy? How?"

"By going inside of Mommy."

"How can my thingie go inside you, Mommy?

"Here, I'll show you, Baby." She guided his hand between her legs.

"You're wet down there, Mommy," Robert giggled. "Did you go pee pee?"

"No, sweetheart, Mommy didn't 'go pee pee.' Mommy is wet because she is excited that your stiff thingie is going to get inside her to make a baby. Feel here." She drew his fingers to her pussy lips and pushed.

"Mommy! You've got a hole in your tummy!" Robert exclaimed. By instinct or forgotten experience with his girlfriend Robert began sawing his fingers in and out of Ruth's flowing pussy. The pleasure was so intense she could hardly breathe.

"Yes, Oh yes, Bobby. Mommy's got a hole. And that's where you're thingie goes, right in that hole to make a baby with Mommy."

"Here, Mommy?"

At that moment Robert's fingers touched her clit. This, plus the knowledge that the young man's fire-hose cock would soon be shooting her fertile womb full of baby-making jism, caused Ruth to explode in orgasm. "Yes, Baby! Make Mommy come. Make Mommy come, come so good, oh yes, yes, Baby," Ruth babbled almost incoherently as the climax swept over her.

"That was so fucking good! Damn! I want it! Give me that cock! I've gotta have that fucker in me now. Oh shit!" Ruth raved as she scrambled on top of Robert. The role as Robert's "Mommy" was forgotten as the sex-crazed woman squatted to position her pussy over the upright pole of the prone young man and hurriedly crammed it into her overheated box. "Yes! Oh yes!" she gasped.

"Mommy, Mommy! What are your doing?" Robert cried, his juvenilized mind alarmed by Mommy's erratic behavior.

Robert's anguished words and the relief of feeing the large prick at last slide deep into her pleasure palace brought Ruth back to whom she was supposed to be. "S'OK, Baby! Mommy's just letting Baby make her feel really good, sweetheart," Ruth gasped. "Soooo good! Such a good Baby!" Slowly she began riding him.

Robert relaxed, reassured that Mommy was happy and soothed by the delightful friction of her slippery pussy sliding up and down on his "thingie." Instinctively he began to thrust up on her down strokes.

"That's it baby. Help Mommy. Do you like it? Do you like helping Mommy make a baby?"

Robert could not remember anything as wonderful as having his thingie in this warm, wet hole in Mommy's tummy. Conscious memories of his former girlfriend had been erased and he had been less than conscious during the repeated fuck sessions the night before that had molded him to Ruth's lustful will. "Oh, yes, Mommy. I like making a baby with YOU!"

"That's good, sweetheart." "Good? It's fucking great!" Ruth grunted to herself, "having that ax handle of a cock in me." "You're doing it just right, Honey, putting a baby in Mommy's tummy!"

"In your -- uhh -- tummy -- uhh -- Mommy?" Robert asked between thrusts as the large woman threw herself down on him, grinding her pussy against his groin with more and more urgency, almost knocking the wind out of the slight young man.

"Yes, Bobby. A baby. A baby that will make Mommy's tummy get sooooo big! Is that what you want, Bobby?"

"Oh, yes -- uhh -- Mommy. You'll be -- uhh -- real pretty -- uhh -- with a big -- tummy."

Ruth suppressed a chuckle. She had reduced Robert's conscious mind to that of a 4 year old, but he still thought like a man! "And what about Mommy's boom booms, Bobby? Mommy's boom-booms are going to get really big. Will you like that?"

"Sure, Mommy-- uhh -- I like you -- uhh -- with big, big -- uhh – boom-booms!" Ruth laughed aloud this time. Robert wasn't thinking like a man, she realized; men just thought like 4-year old boys.

"Are you sure, Bobby? Mommy's boom-booms are going to get full of milk for our baby. You may have to help the new baby and drink some of Mommy's milk. Do you want to do that, Bobby? Suck lots of milk out of Mommy's big, hard boom-booms?"

"Yes, Mommy! Oh Mommy! Mommy!"

Ruth wasn't surprised that thinking about drinking her tittie milk had done it. She felt him tremble, his breath stop. He was about to come. "Do it, Baby! Just let go. Give Mommy your baby juice. Make Mommy's tummy and boom boom's big, Honey. Let your thingie put a baby in Mommy. Let..."

"Agggggghhhgh!" Robert's bucking roar interrupted her and Ruth felt the familiar warmth slam into her. Again. And again! More than last night.

"Yessssssss!" Ruth's own orgasm caught her off guard. Her pussy clamped down on Robert's jism-spewing prick and for a few seconds the ecstasy made her loose consciousness.

When Ruth came to her self she had collapsed on the young man, almost suffocating him with her breasts. She saw that Robert was beyond bliss: his eyes closed, his breathing slow. His mind was open, drugged by sleepy pleasure: hers to do with as she pleased, to fill with her thoughts, her desires, her feelings.

But not now. A pussy full of warm thick cum, a still-hard dick plugging her up, holding in a lake of baby-making seed, and the afterglow of the mind-blowing orgasm took their toll on Ruth, too. She was sleepy. There was nothing that needed doing that couldn't wait. Robert was already totally hers and she could continue to deepen his conditioning later. Moreover, she had the feeling she had already gotten her wish. She would continue making sure the young man kept her pussy awash in his potent sperm, but the strength of that last climax told her this was the load that had had done her. Even now one of her eggs would be selecting the fastest, strongest sperm to invite in. Mommy was going to have a baby! Ruth sighed happily and repositioned Robert's mouth on her breast. As her nipple found his lips Robert began to nurse, mindlessly, as a baby should. Lulled by his gentle sucking, the well-fucked woman drifted off, joining her handsome slave in sex-sated slumber.

Chapter 77

A few years ago, I lived in a 19th-century apartment with a court-yard view into another apartment, which was occupied by an approximately 65-year, grey-haired, but very well-kept women. During the first summer I lived there, temperatures rose to almost 40°C, without really cooling down at night. I had been working on a thesis and, subsequently, I spent a considerable amount of time at home, mostly in front of the computer, with my windows open. Partly because I was a lazy bachelor not too keen on washing my clothes all too often, partly because I liked being in the nude, I typically wore nothing, exposing myself (in the beginning, inadvertently) whenever I got up to refill my coffee or look for a particular book or article.

I worked under time pressure and, in order to stay as focused as I could, I relieved myself whenever thoughts began to drift, typically several times a day (I was a 27-year-old student). I had a few porn magazines locked up in my desk, which I looked at when leaning back and stroking my -- I have been told -- not too unimpressive penis. At some point, probably weeks later, I realised that my neighbour had been watching me, openly staring into my room with binoculars. I had not thought about her much, even though I had noticed that, despite gravity having taken a considerable toll over the years, she did not always wear bras, leaving her tits to dangle rhythmically on her belly, which kind of intrigued me.

Once she saw me recognising her, she first waved at me, then lowering both of her hands to her waist and rhythmically moving them up and down, which I understood to mean her asking me to slow down a little. She subsequently stepped off her balcony, disappeared inside and -- lo and behold -- knocked on my door about three minutes later. After having peeked through the peephole in my door, where I saw her smiling at me, I opened the door, still being entirely naked and uncovered. With a smile, but silently, she entered my one-room apartment, softly closing the door, letting herself fall into my desk chair (really the only one in the room).

"Come," she whispered, while taking my (at that point, soft) cock into her trembling hands, looking at it closely, waiting for it react to her touch. It did not disappoint her, expanding quickly to its proudest posture.

So, there I stood in front of my elderly neighbour, naked and horny like hell, hearing her say "I've watched you for a while and dreamt about coming here for a long, long time."

I could see her breasts, which were, again, left free dangling underneath her white and rather flimsy blouse, almost touching her legs. She had closely followed my eyes, indicating that I could unbutton them, if I so desired. I had never intimately touched a woman of her age, and it was an entirely new sensation to have very large, and incredibly sagging tits in my hands -- but it made me even hotter on this sweltering summer's day.

Topless, she stood in front of me, before she leaned over, letting her rather breath-taking tits touch my knees, knelt between my legs, looking up straight into my eyes, whispering "come, my boy."

Before I could really say or do anything, I felt her lips surround my penis, touching its head with her tongue. Sliding down, looking up, she was giving the most sensuous blowjob. I felt the tension building -- as did she.

"Don't worry," she said, sucking me even more vigorously.

As much as I tried, I couldn't hold it for much longer, and soon began to jerk and moan uncontrollably. She did not move back but continued and then gratefully accepted the full load in her mouth, smiling at me kindly, almost like a grandmother after having offered a candy to a child.

"Let's have a smoke," she said, when letting my penis go.

We were both sitting at the window, (half-)naked, following the smoke disappear into the hot summer air outside (most of the time, though, I was gazing at these breasts, still not knowing what to think of them).

Once the cigarette had been peacefully smoked, she stood up, buttoned herself, and said, "come to my place tomorrow, for a tea." I nooded. "And cream," she added smiling, while kissing me on the mouth before shutting the door.

Needless to add, my thesis did not make much progress that day...

The next day, I woke up very excited. I had no idea what to expect during "tea" later on that afternoon. Thinking about my neighbour's "cream" insinuation, and contrary to normal habits, I made a conscious effort not to masturbate that morning. The first half of the day passed in a usual, uneventful manner. I had a coffee, showered, went to university to talk to my thesis advisor, checked out a couple of books, copied a number of articles that I had to look at a little more closely for the literature survey, bought a baguette with cheese and returned to my one-room apartment at around two-thirty, took another shower, took out fresh clothes (khakis, without any underpants, and a blue shirt), and a pretty good bottle of German Sekt that I had received as a present a while earlier, before heading off to my neighbour's flat situated directly across the court-yard from my place. During the visit a day earlier, and despite the considerable age difference, she had offered me, in between two puffs of smokes, the informal "tu" -- insisting that I call her by her first name, Marie-Therèse.

I knocked on her door, and she opened, with a broad smile on her face and a golden-brown lipstick on her lips. Thanking me for the welcome gift with a gentle kiss, during which she very softly touched my lip with her tongue, she led me into her living room. I could still smell the seductive scent of her expensive perfume (which I'll always associate with her and this afternoon in particular). On that particular day, she wore a very long, yellow blouse, which covered her legs up to her knees, with an interesting aquamarine necklace, and a risqué décolletage that allowed me to see part of her light blue silk bra (one of these miracle push-up bras that manage to create a very tempting, if somewhat wrinkled cleavage). That was an enormous change from her usual "housewife" look; it was somewhere at the borderline between a classy, rich elder lady consciously "à la mode" and a fixture in a run-down red-light établissement. Possibly because of my anticipation, I was very impressed by her fashion sense and, in my unimaginative student outfit, felt a little inadequate.

However, this feeling gave quickly way to an entirely different emotion. To my great surprise, I suddenly saw that there was someone else sitting in Marie-Therèse's flat, a woman roughly her age, very large in proportions, with hair that was coloured in a dark red that I resembled a good Bordeaux.

"This is Claire," my neighbour said, "she's an art professor," pausing for a while, looking straight into my eyes, before she added "who is currently working on a series of male nudes. She visited me a few times before, and we have both watched you working naked on your computer..."

"... and yourself," Claire finished the sentence, smiling at me seductively.

"We didn't know how to subtly ask you," my neighbour added, "Claire wants to paint you, lying here on the sofa in the sun, masturbating."

"If you agree, and should you have any interest at all, we could consider to 'pay' you in kind," Claire suggested.

I looked at them somewhat dumbfounded, just to hear my own words, "but you'll have to do the undressing," slip off my tongue.

Marie-Therèse and Claire looked at one another, and both came slowly towards me. Marie-Therèse with her mouth slightly open, touched her front teeth provocatively with the tip of her tongue. She watched, as Claire, who looked a little like a modern Venus of Willendorf in a loose, white summer's dress, stood right in front of me. I saw her immense, white, and flabby arms, while her thick hands loosened one button at a time. She slid her hands from the chest onto my waist to get me out off my shirt. She firmly grabbed my groin with her right hand, before kneeling down in front of me, opening my khakis and, with an expression of playful surprise, taking out my already hardened penis. The khakis simply fell to the wooden floor.

For just a moment, she took my penis in her mouth, as if to kiss it, only to ask me to position myself on the sunlit sofa underneath the window, while she hurried over to take out her canvas, which she had hidden behind the door in the kitchen. At the same time, Marie-Therèse filled -- what I though was interesting -- three gold-rimmed tea cups with a really good French cognac. Its scent filled the air quickly. After she handed one of them to each of us, Marie-Therèse took an armchair, placed it opposite to me, and made herself comfortable -- and I saw, that, underneath her long blouse, she wore a silken bra and otherwise absolutely nothing.

Claire, having prepared herself, asked me to ignore her for the time being, to watch her friend while holding on to my penis. "Try to keep it like it is, ... but please don't come right yet," she added almost in a whisper tone.

While Claire got increasingly involved in her painting, Marie-Therèse slid down a little on her chair and, to my delight, opened her legs, caressing her thighs, her stomach and, after some time, rubbing her clit. She slid her index and middle fingers into her -- by now, very evidently moist -- pussy and sensuously licked them dry again. She had another sip of cognac but, instead of swallowing it, let it run down her chin, her neck, and onto her blouse.

"Oops," she mocked, "I guess, I'll have to get out of this now."

She stood up, turned around, and undressed herself completely, before presenting herself to me like a 21-year exotic dancer in search of a lap dance. There she was, a naked 65-year old woman, not particularly thin, not particularly beautiful, but sexy, confident, obviously randy -- and with immensely long, intriguingly sagging tits that came down all the way to her stomach. Lifting them up, they were, in her hands, as thin as a folded t-shirt, but their length made them "quite something."

"Don't move," Claire intervened a little nervously, looking at me, while Marie-Therèse went over and switched on some French-Arab music to which she started to dance, her own kind of erotic belly dance, making the most of her jumping, flapping, sagging, flying, dancing tits.

I think she had noticed my attraction to them. Without stopping, she danced over towards a cupboard and, out of a drawer, she took a large dildo, which she first took in her mouth, and, after sitting down again in her wing chair across from me, inserted into her pussy.

"Yea, that's gooood ...," she whispered. Soon thereafter, she started to loose control over herself and, instead of performing, concentrated herself, moaning loudly, on her own sensations. With high-pitched screams, she came, quite intensely and with her whole body shaking widely, her tits falling off to either side of hers.

I had been watching her show with a great deal of excitement, jacking off -- with several "emergency" breaks -- the entire time. What a show! She went over to her friend, looked at the picture and decided that it was essentially done.

She took her friend by her hand and brought her over to me, pointing at me, saying, "you're in charge of the spots on the thighs."

With her thick, heavily beringed fingers, Claire took my almost exploding cock, engulfed it with her lips, licked the head with her tongue, before sucking it with a great deal of talent. Marie-Therèse, from somewhere, had gotten her camera, taking pictures of the scene ("For Claire, to make a picture for my bedroom"). It did not take long until my hips started to jerk. She took my penis out of her mouth, and watched the come fly all over my chest and stomach.

"Beautiful," she added, going back to her canvas to add a few more minor details. "Afternoon tea and cream, that's want I'm going to call it," she said, turning the picture around.

The cups, they suddenly made sense...

Chapter 78

It sort of began about ten years ago. I was at Heathrow, sitting in one of the gate lounges, waiting to be called for a flight to Dublin. I remember that I had had to hurry. The departure gate was one of those that seemed to be in the next county. When I arrived, the woman who checked my boarding pass smiled as if to say: 'Boy, you were cutting that fine, weren't you?' And yet, a good half an hour later, we were still sitting there.

From where I was sitting, I could see the airbridge, but there was no sign of an aircraft. Something had clearly gone wrong. Someone somewhere had fucked up. Eventually a voice came over the Tannoy. 'Ladies and gentlemen, we apologise for the delay -- which is due to the late arrival of your aircraft. At this stage, we hope to have you boarding in approximately 25 minutes.'

The woman sitting next to me must have realised only belatedly that some sort of announcement was being made. She hastily removed the headphones she had been wearing but, by then, the announcement was over. 'Excuse me. What was that?' she asked.

'It seems they've lost our plane. It's going to be another 25 minutes or so -- assuming they find it.'

'Typical,' she said. 'I could have had another hour in bed.'

'I think I might need a coffee,' I said. 'Would you like one?'

'Umm ... yes. Thank you. Yes. That would be nice.'

'Milk?'

'Just a splash. No sugar. Thanks.'

I went up to the little bar and ordered a couple of coffees.

'By the way, I'm Janet,' she said when I got back to where we were sitting.

'Henry,' I said.

She smiled. 'You live in Dublin, Henry?'

'No. Just going to a conference, symposium, whatever. How about you?'

'Yeah. Me too. Dublin seems to have turned into a conference centre, doesn't it?'

I nodded. 'Banking?'

'No. IT,' she said. 'Enterprise systems.'

Eventually, the plane arrived, we boarded, and I bade my new friend goodbye. 'If I don't see you at the other end, have a good conference,' I said.

'Yeah. You too.'

As it happened, I didn't see Janet at the other end. I only had carry-on luggage, and the conference organisers had sent a car to pick me up, and so, an hour or so later than intended, I was whisked off to my hotel.

The next time I saw Janet was just a couple of weeks ago. It was Monday afternoon. I was waiting on the platform at the Canary Wharf DLR station. I think that I probably saw her at about the same moment that she saw me And neither of us seemed one-hundred-percent sure that the other person was who we thought they might be.

'Henry?' she said with a slight frown.

'Janet?'

Ten years earlier, Janet had been far from sylph-like. But now she was a fully-fledged member of the BBW club. Although I have to say that she looked absolutely terrific.

'So you managed to get back from Dublin,' she said.

'Umm, yes, several times. And you?'

Janet smiled. 'So ... let me guess ... you're now on your way back to Essex? Or is it Surrey?'

'Nope. I live in town,' I said. 'Well ... Bayswater. Does that count as town?'

Janet laughed. 'Oh, I think so. I'm the next stop along: Notting Hill.'

We took the DLR to Bank and then switched to the Central Line. It was about five o'clock and I was ready to call it a day. 'Well, I think I've done my dash for the day,' I said, 'and I fancy a glass of something. I don't suppose I could tempt you to join me.'

We got off at Notting Hill Gate and then strolled along to the Blue Turtle.

'What's your poison?' I asked.

'Oh, I don't know. A glass of red perhaps?'

'Anything in particular?'

'No. You can choose. I'm sure anything red and wet will be fine.'

I got us a couple of glasses of Chilean merlot -- which turned out to be surprisingly good -- and we found a table in the corner.

'So, if I remember correctly, you're in IT, right?'

'Used to be,' Janet said. 'These days I design online learning programmes.'

'OK. But for IT, I assume?'

'For pretty much anything. And you? Are you still involved in banking?'

I explained that I had taken a bit of a sideways step in the aftermath of the mess that became known as the GFC and that I was now involved in an innovation development consultancy.

'That must be interesting.'

'Well, at least there's always something new and different,' I said.

We chatted on for about three quarters of an hour, and then Janet said that she had to go. She had her sister staying with her for a few days. 'I should go and organise some supper.'

'It was nice to see you again,' I said. 'Not that I saw for you for very long the first time. And that was ... gosh ... ten years ago? Can it really have been that long?'

'I guess so. But hopefully it won't be such a long gap next time.'

'I hope not,' I said.

'We could always cheat,' she said. 'You could give me your phone number. But only if you want to, of course.'

I gave her my number, and the next moment my phone rang.

'There you are. Now you have my number too.'

I glanced at the screen. 'I do indeed.'

Thinking about it later, Janet was definitely not the sort of woman I would normally go for. Yes, she had a sweet face and beautiful shoulder-length hair. But she also had boobs the size of melons, a bit of a tummy, and an ample bum. From what I could see, her thighs would also come in handy if you needed to kick start a jumbo jet. She was certainly substantial. But she was also undeniably beautiful and ... well ... there's no other way to put it: she was sexy as all fuck.

The following day, I had to fly to Glasgow to talk to some people at the university there. I also thought that it would be an opportunity to have dinner with a chap I know who, for a piece of the action, is often prepared to put seed funding into new industrial technology projects. Given that dinner wasn't until eight, I thought that I had better take a hotel room for the night and fly home the following morning. I got Myrna to book me a room at Thistle Glasgow, on Cambridge Street, just near Sauchiehall Street.

The day was productive, and the dinner was both productive and pleasant, and I got back to the hotel shortly after ten o'clock. I must confess that I was tempted to call Janet. Just to say hello. But then I thought better of it. Ten o'clock? Who knows? Perhaps she had already gone to bed.

I poured myself a wee dram. I was in Scotland after all; it seemed the least I could do. And even after half a bottle of red wine, the whisky tasted very good. But I still couldn't stop thinking about Janet.

When I had run into her the previous day, she had been wearing a silky black blouse and a shortish grey tailored skirt. She had also been wearing bright red patent leather pumps. Probably Salvatore Ferragamo. But now I found myself wondering what she would look like in lingerie. Or even in ... well ... nothing at all.

I suppose because of her size, I imagined her wearing quite sturdy undergarments. I imagined her wearing one of those deep suspender belts that is almost an old-fashioned girdle. I have to say that the thought was quite arousing. Just thinking about it, I felt my cock begin to stir. I took a second sip of the warming whisky and removed my trousers. As my friend Anthony says: once you are past 40, it's always a shame to let an erection go to waste.

The following day I flew back to London and spent a busy afternoon in the office. But then, somewhere about 5:30, I started thinking about Janet again. Should I phone her? I didn't want to seem too eager. But, on the other hand, she had given me her phone number. Why would she have done that unless she had wanted me to call her? I scrolled through my contact list, selected Janet, and pressed Call.

The phone rang five or six times before she answered. And I immediately heard voices in the background. 'Hi. I'm in a meeting,' she said quietly. Her voice sounded warm and friendly.

'Sorry.'

She laughed. 'Don't be. I'll call you back in about 15 minutes. OK?'

'Yes. Fine,' I said.

It was almost six by the time she called back. 'How are you?'

'Good. Yes, good. just got back from Glasgow. Well, this morning actually -- but you know what I mean.'

She laughed. 'Glasgow? So you got third prize. Who got first?'

'I quite like Glasgow,' I said. 'In small doses.'

Again she laughed.

'Look, I wondered if you'd like to catch up for a glass of wine. I know that would make it twice in one week, but you did say that we shouldn't wait for another ten years.'

'I did,' she said. 'Are you thinking tonight?'

'Yes. We could go back to the Turtle -- or somewhere else if you like.'

'I'd love to ...'

Yes!

'... but my sister and I are having supper with our aunt this evening. It's my sister's last night in London. She's going home tomorrow.'

'Oh,' I said, trying not to sound as disappointed as I felt. 'Oh, OK. How about tomorrow then?'

'For the next couple of days I'm in Leeds. Why don't I give you a call when I get back? Maybe we could do something on the weekend.'

'The weekend? Umm ... yes. Yes, that would be great.' Well, I said that it would be great. But, for the first time in a long time, the weekend suddenly seemed a very long way away.

One of the more successful innovators that I know has a T-shirt that says: 'I'm a light sleeper but a heavy dreamer'. He's always dreaming up new ideas, so I guess it's rather apt. And I keep thinking that I should ask him where he got it, because, in a literal sense, that's me too. I go to sleep easily, but then the slightest noise tends to wake me up. However, when I am asleep, I do seem to have some really vivid Technicolor dreams.

That night, the night before Janet was heading off to Leeds, I dreamed that she and I were on a train. We were sitting opposite each other. She was reading a book; I was just ... watching her, I suppose. Suddenly, she put her book down on the seat next to her and smiled at me. 'Are you trying to look up my skirt?' she said.

'Umm ... well ... yes. I suppose I was,' I replied. (There was no point in denying it.)

She wriggled slightly in her seat and pulled her skirt up almost to the top of her ample thighs. 'There. Is that better?' she asked.

'Yes. Much better. Thank you.' In a way, I had been on the right track when I had masturbated while thinking about her in Glasgow. With her skirt hoisted, I could just about see that she was wearing one of those rather sturdy suspender belts. Hot pink with a touch of dark red lace. And she was not wearing any knickers. I woke up at that point -- with another erection that needed to be attended to.

On Friday, I arrived home just after six and I was, once again, tempted to phone Janet. I figured that she would probably be on her way back from Leeds. I briefly imagined her sitting on the train -- a real life train in this case -- waiting for her phone to ring. But I also remembered that she had specifically said that she would phone me. And it was probably better that I didn't seem too eager. In the end, I made sure that my phone was fully charged and ready to receive incoming calls, and then I went off to meet Anthony and Tino for a couple of drinks. As so often happens, a couple of drinks turned into three or four which turned into supper at Scrivano's. It was about eleven by the time I got home the second time.

It was about 12 hours later that Janet finally called.

'Hi. How are you? How was Leeds?'

'Leeds was OK. But yesterday turned into a long day. It was after midnight by the time I got home. I was on a late train. And there was something happening just north of Peterborough. We crawled along for the best part of three-quarters of an hour. They never tell you why, of course.'

'No. Well, that would take all the fun out of it.'

Janet laughed. 'So, are we going to get together?'

'I'm game if you are,' I said. 'What are you thinking?'

'Well, I was wondering if you might like to come around here this evening for a bit of casual supper. Nothing flash.'

'Umm ... yes. I'd love to.'

'Say about seven?'

'Perfect,' I said.

'Good. And, as I say, just casual. Definitely no black tie required.' She laughed. 'In fact, even socks are optional.' And she gave me an address and some instructions.

Janet's flat was a garden flat in one of those 'garden' streets off Ladbroke Grove. The gate in the glossy black-painted, gold-spiked railings was already open, and I was only about halfway down the iron steps when Janet appeared at the door to greet me. 'You found us then?'

'Your instructions were spot on,' I said.

She laughed. 'Given my day job, it would be a bit of a worry if I couldn't provide some decent, easy-to-follow instructions.'

'I suppose so,' I said.

'Come on in.'

'You're looking very nice,' I said. And she was. She was wearing a slightly-faded black denim skirt and a two-tone pink girly blouse that showed off her ample cleavage. And even though she had told me that socks were optional, she herself appeared to be wearing pale pink stockings. 'Oh, and something wet and red,' I said, as I handed her the bottle of Two Paddocks Last Chance 2010 Pinot Noir that I had picked up on the way over. 'It's from Sam Neill's place -- although I don't suppose that he actually made it with his own fair hand.'

'Sam Neill?'

'Actor? Jurassic Park? The Hunt for Red October? Riley Ace of Spies?'

'Oh, right. Yes. I didn't realise he was also in the wine business.'

'Pretty successful, too, I understand.'

I followed Janet into the flat, past a modern-looking open-plan kitchen-diner and along a broad corridor with doors off each side. 'Come and meet George,' she said. 'We're out on the patio, enjoying the last few rays of sunshine.'

George? It hadn't occurred to me that Janet might have a husband or some other significant other. I had just assumed that she was single. Not that she had said that she was single. I had just ... well ... assumed. I mean ... she had been quite happy to come and have a glass of wine with me. But then, the moment I started to think about it, why should she be single? She was warm ... witty ... sexy. Why wouldn't someone have snaffled her up?

'George, meet my friend Henry,' Janet said.

As we emerged out onto the patio, George had his back to us. And then he turned around.

London is a big city. A very big city. There are about eight million people living in Greater London and, when you allow for the people who travel in daily for work and the people who visit as tourists, I guess there must be days when the population is closer to ten million, possibly 11 million. And yet George -- Janet's George -- was also my former boss.

'Henry! Well, well. Long time, no see, old chap.'

I laughed. Well, what else could I do? 'How are you, George?'

'Oh, not too bad, not too bad. Just enjoying that last of the sunshine. And you?'

'Umm ... yes, good,' I said, struggling to regain my equilibrium.

'A glass of wine?' Janet asked. 'Or would prefer something like a G&T?'

I opted for a glass of wine. Janet poured it. And the three of us slipped into a slightly awkward conversation -- loosely around the subject of what I had been up to since I had ceased to be George's 'most promising protégée'. And then -- and I must say it came as a complete surprise -- George suddenly said: 'Well, I'll leave you two to ... well ... whatever. Delia should be home by now. Don't want her getting blotto before she has a chance to get the supper underway.'

Janet laughed. 'Don't be such a grouch, George. If I had to put up with you, I'd be blotto by ten every morning.'

'Harsh,' George said -- although he did say it with a broad smile on his face.

'Do you want to come on through to the kitchen?' Janet said when George had shown himself out. 'You can watch me pretend to follow the recipe.'

Truth be told, there wasn't much of a recipe to be followed. Janet had already made (or possibly bought) some Vichyssoise to which she had only to add an extra swirl of cream. She had also pre-cooked some diced potatoes, and these she put into a pan with some olive oil and butter and a shredded sprig of rosemary, and then put the pan over a low flame.

As we sipped and chatted, she sliced an assortment of mushrooms -- Swiss brown, shiitake, oyster -- and put them in a pan with a large knob of butter. Once the mushrooms had wilted, she added some fresh thyme, a glug of red wine and about a cup of beef stock, and turned the heat down to a simmer.

'So how do you know George?' I asked.

'He and Delia are my upstairs neighbours. There used to be another two flats upstairs, but George and Delia bought them both and turned them back in one house. For a while there, I think he was eyeing up my place too.'

'But you weren't tempted?'

Janet laughed. 'Frankly, I'd rather have nice neighbours than a chunk of change and the hassle of having to move.'

'Fair enough,' I said. 'By the way, is there anything I can do to help?'

'No. We're just about there.' Janet added a splash of cream to the reducing mushroom mixture, tossed the sautéing potatoes a couple of times, started heating a third pan, and cut a couple of rounds of bread from a small ciabatta loaf. 'I hope you like your steak medium rare,' she said, lifting a square of white butcher's paper to reveal a couple of thick slices of eye fillet.

'Perfect.'

Janet smeared a little olive oil on to one side of the steaks, seasoned them with salt and pepper, and placed them, seasoned side down, in the pan which was now beginning to smoke. Another practiced shake of the sautéing potatoes, another quick stir of the mushroom mixture, and it was time to turn the steaks. 'Right. Another couple of minutes and we can start attacking the Vichyssoise,' she said. 'I thought perhaps a glass of sauvignon blanc with the soup, and then we can switch to your lovely pinot noir with the steaks.' And she opened the fridge and passed me a bottle of Bordeaux white. 'If you could do the honours.'

I opened the wine and put a generous slosh into each of the glasses already in place on the table. Yes, I could imagine the wine complimenting the cool-but-creamy soup perfectly.

Another minute or so and Janet turned all of the gas rings to their lowest settings, removed the steaks from the pan, and placed them on a warm plate which she had standing by, ready and waiting.

The soup was superb. The leeks, potato, and chicken stock were in perfect balance. Whether Janet had made it or bought it, I didn't know and I didn't care. And, as I had imagined, the sauvignon blanc-based Bordeaux white was the ideal partner.

'OK?' Janet asked.

'Perfect,' I replied. From her smile, I suspect that Janet agreed. At that point I also suspected that she had had a hand in the soup's genesis.

'Right. And now I just need to lightly grill the croutons,' Janet said, as she cleared away the now-empty soup bowls.

Up went the gas flame under the pan in which the steaks had been cooked and, 30 seconds later, in went the two slices of bread. One more stir of the mushroom sauce mixture, another shake of the sautéing potatoes, and it was time to turn the bread and lightly char the other side. And then it was off, off, off.

The sautéed potatoes were drained on a double thickness of paper towel, then seasoned, and placed in a serving dish. A crouton was placed in the centre of each of the waiting plates; a steak was placed on top of each crouton; and one end of each steak was napped with a generous serving of the mushroom sauce mixture. A fresh grind of black pepper and couple of sprigs of fresh thyme completed the presentation.

'Help yourself to potatoes,' Janet said, as she placed the plates of food -- that would not have looked out of place in a decent restaurant -- on the table. 'I was going to make a small salad, but I thought that it might be too healthy.' And then she laughed.

'It looks delicious,' I said. 'Cheers.'

Chapter 79

'Cheers,' she echoed.

If it looked delicious, it tasted even better. The steak was cooked perfectly. The mushroom sauce was full of rich umami flavours with a slightly minty pepperiness from the thyme. And the sautéed potatoes were crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. Oh, and Sam Neill's pinot noir rounded out the taste experience even better than I could ever have hoped.

'I made a little dessert,' Janet said. 'But maybe we should go and enjoy the rest of the wine out on the patio first. The sun will have gone by now, but it should still be reasonably warm.'

I refilled our glasses and followed Janet down the broad corridor for the second time. The sun had dipped down behind the surrounding buildings, but the patio flagstones had absorbed the warmth of the earlier sunshine and they were now radiating it back into the evening air.

'That was a superb meal,' I said. 'You clearly enjoy good food.'

Janet tapped her tummy. 'Do I look like a girl who starves herself?'

Even after several glasses of wine, I decided that there was no diplomatic answer to that particular question. I just smiled.

'Yes,' she said, 'I like good food; I like good wine; and I must say that I am enjoying your company.'

'And I am enjoying your company,' I said.

'How much?'

'How much?'

'Yes. Where do you see this evening going?'

It was not a question for which I had a pre-prepared answer. 'Is this a question that you ask all of your supper guests?' I said.

Janet laughed. 'It has been some time since I had a supper guest that intrigued me quite the way that you do.'

'Intrigued?'

'Possibly a poor choice of word. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it has been some time since I had a supper guest that made me feel as horny as you do.'

I was caught totally off guard. But I was not at all unhappy. 'I see,' I said. 'Well ... yes ... there does seem to be a certain something going on between us, doesn't there?'

'I hope so,' Janet said. 'Perhaps I should show you what's on offer. What is it they say? Caveat emptor? The bedroom is just in here.'

It was all moving rather quickly. But I wasn't complaining. I followed Janet back into the flat, and through the first door on the right off the broad corridor.

'Why don't you sit in that chair there?' she said. 'If you like what you see ... And if you don't, well, no hard feelings. It was probably worth a try.'

Now it was me who was intrigued.

'I'm a big girl,' Janet said, as she swished her denim shirt. 'Do you like big girls, Henry? No. Don't answer that. Well, not just yet anyway.' She pulled her skirt up to show me her thighs. Yes, they were generous thighs. Generous and sexy.

'I like this skirt,' she said. 'It looks like denim, doesn't it? But it's actually Tencel. I like the softness of Tencel. Do you like the softness of Tencel, Henry?'

'I'm not sure that I have ever had the pleasure.'

Janet came and stood right in front of me, lifted the hem of her skirt, and gently brushed the fabric against my cheek. 'Soft?'

'It is.'

'And sexy?'

'That, too,' I said. I reached out to see how soft and sexy this miracle fabric felt as it draped over Janet's full womanly hips. But she backed away before I made contact.

'Ah-ah. All in good time, Henry,' she said.

For a few moments longer, Janet swished and swayed, lifting her skirt slightly and then letting it fall again. 'Perhaps I should take it off,' she said. 'What do you think?'

I just smiled. I got the feeling that, no matter what I said, Janet was going to do exactly what she wanted to do.

'Yes. That's what I'll do.' And that's what she did. But only slowly. And teasingly.

And my dream, premonition, call it what you will, that she would be wearing a deep suspender belt in hot pink with burgundy lace, was only partly correct. She was, indeed, wearing a deep suspender belt. But it was black Lycra, with a black satin panel and silver-grey bow. 'Did you realise that I would not be wearing knickers?' she said.

'Not for certain. But I did have an inkling. Or perhaps it was just a hope.'

'What do you think?' Janet did a little twirl -- like a small girl showing off her new dress -- except Janet was showing off her Lycra-clad bum.

'Very nice,' I said.

'Perhaps I'll take my blouse off too.' Slowly, Janet began to undo the buttons. 'I like this blouse. I like the colours. I think the two shades of pink go together very well -- of course they have to be the right two shades of pink, but you know what I mean. And I like the way that the blouse shows off my cleavage. When you have boobs like mine, Henry, you can hardly hide them away. So you may as well show them off. Don't you think so?'

'It certainly sounds like a good idea to me,' I said.

Janet briefly paused her unbuttoning, lifted her boobs, and squeezed them closer together. 'See?' she said.

'I do indeed. And they are very nice.'

There was a full-length mirror on one side of the room, and Janet turned slightly so that she too could appreciate her assets. 'Yes,' she said. 'Yes. Not bad.' And then she resumed unbuttoning her blouse.

If I say that the black lacy bra -- also with a silvery-grey bow -- which Janet was wearing under her girly pink-on-pink blouse was a triumph of engineering, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. There was nothing 'industrial' about it. In fact, it was delightfully, arousingly, feminine. But, through skilful design and structure, it also managed to partly contain and partly show off a significant amount of pulchritudinous flesh.

'There. That's better,' she said.

And, once again, I just smiled.

For a moment or two, Janet just stood there. And then she glanced down at her thighs 'Hmm. I think I am going to have to take off my stockings,' she said. 'I suppose that I could have worn stay-ups, but ... well, I just think there are times when stockings are better.'

She paused briefly. And smiled. And then she began undoing the suspenders at the back. 'Two down, two to go,' she said. 'Left? Or right? Let's start with left, shall we?' And then she laughed. 'No. Right. Oh, I don't know. You choose,' she said.'

I nodded towards her ample right thigh, and she released the suspenders on the right-hand side, followed by those on the left. 'Would you like to take off my stockings, Henry? Yes, I'm sure that you would, wouldn't you? But, no. I think that I should do it. We don't want you getting too excited. Well, not just yet, anyway. If you're a good boy, there will be opportunities for excitement later.'

With her blouse and stockings removed, Janet did another slow twirl. And then she turned a half turn and pointed her beautiful bum in my direction. 'What do you think?' And she gave one of her Lycra-clad buttocks a sharp smack. 'You like that? Yes, I thought that you might.' And she laughed her cheeky laugh (no pun intended).

Throughout Janet's 'performance', there had been music drifting through from the kitchen-diner. But suddenly it stopped. Presumably, the MP3 file selected had run its course. 'Oh,' Janet said. 'That was bad timing, wasn't it? Oh well ...' And she began to hum David Rose's classic: The Stripper. 'Da-dum bum bum ... de-dum bum bum ...' And with each 'bum bum' her suspender belt edged lower, until, eventually, it was around her knees, from where it fell to the ground.

'Shall I keep my bra on for a little longer?' she said.

'I think so,' I said. 'It's rather sexy.'

'Yes. I think so too.'

Freed from the constraints of the elasticated undergarment, the lower region of Janet's tummy now formed a soft roll which almost overwhelmed her delightfully pudgy, fur covered pubic mound. Almost, but not quite.

'Please feel free to remove your trousers,' Janet said. 'It would be inhospitable of me to have all of the fun.'

With one hand, she gently raised her soft tummy roll; with the other she began to gently stretch and massage the upper region of the slit that disappeared down between the tops of her thighs. 'Perhaps I should sit down,' she said. And she took a step backwards and sat on the edge of the bed. 'There.' She also spread her legs. 'Is that better?'

In answer, I unbuckled my belt, lowered my zip, and allowed my almost-erect cock to spring free.

'Oh, yes. That seems to be having the desired effect,' Janet said.

I laughed. 'What did you expect?'

'Well ... you never can tell,' she said.

Now that Janet was in a semi-recumbent position, with her knees raised and her legs splayed, I was afforded a largely unobscured view of her previously hidden valley. Like everything else about Janet, it was generously proportioned. And even before she had really worked up a head of steam (so to speak) she was showing a seriously-impressive pair of delicate pink-coloured butterfly-shaped inner lips.

'Do you like what you see, Henry?'

'I do,' I said, as I took hold of my cock and slowly worked it. 'I like it very much.'

For the next few minutes, it was almost as if Janet forgot that I was there. Her elegant fingers (with their hot-pink-painted nails) stroked and strummed her clit and, every now and then, one or two of them disappeared into her apparently-wet vagina.

And then ... well ... and then she really did start to work up a head of steam. The fingers of her right hand were but a blur as she furiously worked her clit. And a couple of fingers of her other hand plunged in and out of her vagina, creating a delightfully-erotic squelching sound. And then, with a series of breathless, stifled yelps, it was all over.

'Phew. See what you made me do?'

'Me? I think you'll find that was mainly of your own doing,' I said.

Janet laughed softly. 'But it wouldn't have been half as much fun without you sitting there. Without you watching my every move.'

'The pleasure was mine.'

'And yet you have shown remarkable restraint,' she said.

I told her that it had been touch and go once or twice. 'But I didn't want it to end. ell, not until it had to, anyway.'

'Well, let's see if we can find somewhere nice and warm to put that fine looking cock, shall we?' Janet got up from the bed, walked around to one of the bedside cabinets, and produced a bottle of baby oil from one of the drawers.

Keeping her back to me -- but glancing cheekily over her shoulder -- she tipped a generous amount of the baby oil into her cupped right hand and slathered the oil over her plump right buttock. 'Mmm ... nice,' she said. And then she did the same with her left buttock. 'Does that look good, Henry? Does my oiled arse make your cock twitch?' And then she reached around and dribbled some oil into the crack between her buttocks. 'Mmm,' she said again.

Purely by chance (well, no, I don't think it was purely by chance, but you know what I mean), she had a hand towel handy. She put down the baby oil, picked up the hand towel, and returned to where she had been, in front of my chair. She dropped the towel on the bed, turned around, and, while once again looking cheekily over her shoulder, she ran a finger slowly -- and I do mean slowly -- down the groove between her now-glistening buttocks. 'Mmm,' she said, yet again. 'Oh, yes.'

And then she half turned and held her hands up. 'Oh, look. Now I've made my hands all oily. Perhaps I should wipe them on my pussy. What do you think, Henry?'

Entering into the spirit of the moment, I said that it would definitely be worth a try.

'Yes. I think it might be, too.' And spreading her legs apart, she leaned forward and slowly wiped first one hand and then the other across her exposed vulva. 'There, that's better. Well, a little bit, anyway.' And she finished wiping her hands on the handy towel. 'Don't want to get oil stains on the duvet cover, do we?'

'Right,' Janet said. 'And now I think we are ready.' She knelt on the edge of the bed and stuck her glistening-globed backside in my direction. 'Ready for a little rear-entry action, Henry?'

Ready? I was more than ready. And, whether by accident or design, the glistening entrance to her voluptuous cunt was in the perfect position to receive my rampant cock. In it went, like a hand slipping into a warm, silk-lined glove.

'Oh. That feels so good,' Janet said. 'You can't imagine how good that feels.'

Could I not? Perhaps she had a point. However, at least I didn't need to imagine how good the whole thing felt from my end. I knew how good the whole thing felt from my end. And I knew that it felt fantastic. For perhaps five minutes my cock slid in and out of Janet's sexy socket like a well-lubed piston on a classic steam engine. But eventually, it was time to let go. And let go I did. It felt as though I was pumping cum for at least another five minutes. I wasn't, of course. But I'm sure that you know what I mean.

Chapter 80

Jack entered the store pushing a cart and with grocery list in hand. He paused just past the door to clear the way of others wanting to enter and scanned the area. He knew where the items were that were on his list; he wasn't scanning for those. He looked for what he'd discovered several months ago and since that time had become one of his greatest pleasures.

A few months back he'd been out doing his weekly leisurely shopping; he tended to take his time attending to this task since he retired and had little else to do, when a cart bumped into him from behind. He turned and discovered a woman less than half his age and very distracted.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the young woman said, "are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?"

Jack was often considered frail by the younger crowd," If you wanted to meet me, a simple hello would have worked, but I'm not available for dating right now," He replied with a grin.

The young woman looked confused, not getting his joke, "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she added before quickly moving around him.

Jack just shrugged his shoulders, it seems that the younger crowd was always in a hurry. He continued his shopping and a few minutes later in another aisle the woman bumped into him again.

Jack turned to see the same distracted woman, "Now I know you are stalking me, but leave your number and I'll call you when I'm available to date."

"I'm so sorry," she started, "What? No!"

She actually heard what he'd said and Jack laughed. "I'm Jack and if you don't mind my saying, you seem distracted and a bit stressed. Can I help you in any way?"

"Oh, sorry. Yes, I am stressed out. My husband just told me he's bringing over some coworker for dinner tonight and I have no idea what to make for them. We were just going to have whatever leftovers we could find tonight. I wasn't planning on cooking."

"I get it. You only have a couple of hours to come up with an idea, buy the ingredients, cook it all and look like it as no problem at all, right?" Jack offered.

"Yeah, you got it. What can I do?"

"How about something really simple and quick, like pork chops?"

"My husband loves pork chop, but I don't know how to cook them."

"Come with me," Jack said leaving his cart and directing his new friend over to the meat department. He picked out a family pack of pork chops and described to her the method of browning them in a skillet on the stovetop. He then led her to the soup aisle and picked up a can of cream of mushroom soup as he described the purpose of the sauce with the browned pork chops. He then grabbed two cans of sour kraut. He described how to put all the ingredients together and wished her luck.

She thanked him and hurried to buy her selections and rush home.

The following week, Jack again saw the woman although this time she seemed much more relaxed. She approached him smiling.

"Thank you so much for your suggestion about the pork chops. They were a huge success and so simple. My husband wants me to make them again."

"I'm so glad I could help." Jack said.

The woman put her arms around Jack, giving him a warm hug, "You were a life saver. My name is Liz, by the way. I know I was a bit out of it last week, but didn't you say your name is Jack, but not available for dating."

"Yep, that's me and I'll have to check my calendar to see if I can squeeze you in for a date."

That was the start of several months of flirting between the two of them. Liz loved to tease poor old Jack, but Jack felt young again and allowed his fantasy life to again have space in his mind.

Jack often had a compliment for Liz whenever he saw her. They started out fairly tame such as—You are looking cheerful today, or I like what you've done with you hair. Within a few weeks the complements shifted to the clothes she wore and again weren't that inappropriate to start such as—That's a nice color on you, or is that a new top?

Jack then started to complement the clothes that flattered her figure or showed a bit of skin. He complemented the low cut tops she wore, or whenever she was not wearing a bra.

Liz enjoyed the attention Jack lavished on her and when his attentions shifted to her figure, she made sure to dress in a way to encourage him. Liz was not accustomed to men paying attention to her. All through school she had been the one ignored and passed by. She didn't consider herself ugly, but it seemed that hers was the minority opinion. It didn't help that she was socially awkward, due in large part to the way her mother raised her.

She only ever dated her now husband and that for only a few months. Her mother had insisted she marry him since no other man would ever be interested in her.

She looked forward to seeing Jack at the grocery story every week and found out he was a widower; his wife had passed away ten years ago. He was also retired and lived on a small pension and social security. He, like her, had few friends and those he did have, rarely left their homes.

Jack still scanned the store for Liz. It was possible that she wasn't here today or had already finished her shopping. He tried to tell himself that over the past several months they had settled on Thursdays at 10 AM. He tried to remember if today was Thursday, he sometimes forgot what the day was since he retired. He checked his watch and it was one minute before 10. He thought that maybe he was early, just as a cart bumped into him.

"I'm sorry, but you just looked so lost in thought that I figured you needed a bump to bring you back into the here and now."

Jack turned and saw a smiling Liz with her hands on the cart that had just assaulted him. He tried to think of a witty comeback, but was rendered speechless by the thin blue, sleeveless shirt she wore. The shirt was attractive on her and not oversized like so many of the garments she wore. This one fit her well, very well. It had a vee neck that plunged deep, not deep by current women's fashions, but deep by Liz's fashion standards. She also wore no bra and her nipples were noticeable.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" she asked the shocked Jack standing before her with his mouth open.

He recovered and replied, "Sorry to stare, but I didn't know fashion models shopped here."

Liz laughed, "That's what I like about you, you don't get out much."

"Actually I get out a lot and I notice that so many of the women out there are plastic, but you're not. That top was meant for you. It accentuates your charms nicely. Your breasts move with a natural grace encouraging carnal thoughts in those near you."

Liz picked up the sweater she had placed on the handrail of her cart and hesitated. Her nipples were tightening either from the coolness in the store or from the words she had just heard. The voice of her mother screamed though her head, that she should always cover herself completely or be thought of as a whore.

Jack noticed her hesitation as she looked at the sweater. He could imagine the thought processes going though her head about good girls who did not display their bodies arguing with the parts of her who saw people having fun and teasing with their bodies.

"I'll understand if you want to cover up now. I just feel privileged that you would allow me to see the artistry of your charms. You have made me a very happy man today."

Liz placed the sweater back on the cart. "I'll have to put it back on before I go home, but you have made me a very happy woman today as well."

They walked around the store collecting the items from their respective list.

Liz looked around staring at some of the other customers. "I don't know why I feel that I need several layers covering my body at all times. Look at the other women in here. I don't think any of them are wearing a bra."

"That's true. Most of those in here just want to be comfortable." Jack responded.

"Plus they are more attractive than I am." Liz reacted with her head down.

"Whoever told you that was lying. You have a sensuality that permeates the entire space around you. The clothes you normally wear hide your natural beauty. I have been amazed at how delightful provocative you are when you allow your glow to shine through."

Liz felt the heat increasing in her face and chest. She had rarely felt this before and she liked it. She had no idea what to do, so she grabbed her sweater and left without getting her groceries.

Liz went home hyperventilating. She was confused. She tried to calm down, but didn't change out of the sexy top she wore. For some strange reason she wanted to leave it on. She went back to the store a couple of hours later to complete her shopping and got home just before her husband got home from work.

"Hi honey," she announced as he walked into the kitchen. She was in the process of putting away the groceries.

"Hi, are you just getting home from shopping?" He asked.

"Sorry, I got a late start today, I can heat up some leftovers for dinner."

"Is that a new top you have on?" He asked.

She had forgotten to change before he got home. "Yeah, but I can take it back. I just wanted to see what it felt like to wear something like this."

"Don't take it back. I like it. It's about time you stopped dressing like a nun."

"You like it?" She asked stunned.

"Of course, I do. Did you wear it to the store?"

"Un huh" Was all she could reply.

"Did that old guy see you, you know the one who told you how to make pork chops?"

"Yes, I see him every so often at the store." She answered not sure if she was in trouble or not.

"Did he like it? Was he the one who encouraged you to get it? If so then it's just one more thing I have to thank him for."

"You're not jealous?" Liz asked totally confused.

"Why would I be jealous? He said he's like 90 years old, didn't you?

"I'm not sure how old he is, but he does live alone and I think the Thursday shopping is the high point of his week." Liz commented.

"You're bored at home most days too. Why don't you do a good deed and visit him a couple times a week, maybe play cards with him or let him tell you about the good 'ol days. Who knows maybe he will share some more recipes with you, or encourage you to wear something other than your grandmother's clothes?

Liz didn't know where Jack lived exactly; she had only ever seen him at the grocery store. She was intrigued about seeing more of Jack and also surprised that her husband was encouraging her to see him. Over most of the rest of the week she quizzed her husband, making sure he was okay with her spending time with another man, even one who could be old enough to be her grandfather. She finally accepted the fact that there was no jealousy involved, but she failed to mention that she felt very desirable when she was around Jack.

By the time Thursday rolled around again, Liz stood in the parking lot at 9:45 waiting for Jack. She had on the new white top she bought. It was similar to the blue one she wore last week, but seemed to be made out of thinner material. Maybe since it was white made it appear to be a less than sufficient covering. It wasn't transparent, but wearing it, made her feel as if it were.

People walked by her, not paying any attention to the fact that she was near naked. She needed Jack to come by and leer at her, like he had last week.

She saw him approach from across the parking lot. He had not driven to this store, indicating that he lived close enough to walk.

"Hi Liz," he announced when he spotted her just outside the front door. "I was afraid I had offended you and would not see you again."

"That wasn't it. I started to feel strange and it just felt wrong, so I panicked and went home. I made the mistake of leaving on that sexy top and still wore it when my husband got home." She explained.

"Seeing as how you are now wearing a similar top, I take it he liked it." Jack commented.

"He loved it and assumed you were responsible for me wearing something that does not make me look like a nun. He said I should hang out with you more often."

"Really?"

"I talked with him all last week and he is serious about wanting me to spend time with you. He thinks you are good for me and that I might be able to help you with your loneliness. Would you mind if I came over to your place a couple of times a week to just hang out, play cards, talk, whatever?"

"I might not be able to focus on cards if you continue to wear tops like what you are wearing now." Jack affirmed.

"Doesn't it make me look like a slut?" She asked wrapping her arms around her chest.

"Not in the least. You know, I've been getting the impression ever since I met you that you were severely shamed over your body when you were young."

"My mother always told me to make sure I was completely covered at all times." She offered looking up into Jack's eyes, "and that no one wanted to look at such an ugly sight as I was." A tear started to form in her eye.

"Well, your mother lied to you and she may have had some insecurity issues. You are a beautiful woman, and you have a very desirable body when you are not hiding it under so many layers, both physical and emotional. Have you paid attention to the way women dress? Look at the women while we shop; most of them wear much more revealing clothes than you do."

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"Definitely."

"And I'm desirable?" She lowered her arms displaying her breasts."

"Oh yeah!" Jack responded, "It's all I can do to keep my hands off of you."

"Really? You want to touch me?"

"I want to caress you, fondle you, and even grope you," he answered.

Liz face took on a deep red hue, but she did not raise her hands to cover her breasts, nor did she shift her gaze from his eyes. "Would you settle for a hug?" she asked.

"I'd love a hug," Jack replied as he opened his arms.

Liz stepped into his arms and nestled against his chest. After several seconds past a normal hug, Jack adjusted his hands from around her back to her sides within inches of her breasts. She looked up and leaned back just a bit, but kept her arms around him. She stared into his eyes and wet her lips as his hands inched forward to cradle her breasts. He gave her a quick squeeze then backed away.

"Sorry," he said. I got carried away.

"It's okay," she replied, "Shall we get started with our shopping?"

They each grabbed a cart and started their trip up and down the aisles gathering items along the way, but this time instead of the normal banter back and forth, they looked at and commented on what the other female customers wore.

No one, other than Liz, wore a skirt that ended at mid-calf. Most wore shorts that were very short or sun dresses than rode up high on their thighs. Liz was also the only one to wear a top that covered as much skin as hers did. Many wore thin tank tops or belly exposing crop tops.

Liz commented that she had thought her top to be rather risqué, but upon seeing what the other women wore, hers was very conservative.

Jack agreed, but added that most of the women there paid no attention to what they wore. Only Liz had an aura of sexiness.

"Would you like it, if I wore tops and short skirts like the other women are wearing? They are all more pretty than I am." She asked Jack.

"By all means, but remember that when you show off your figure to me, I may not be able to control myself, or my hands when I'm near you." He winked as he said it and stroked her shoulder with the back of one finger in a seductive way.

She looked up at him with a smile that indicated she really didn't believe him, but enjoyed hearing him say it.

"I would love to see your legs. Have you always worn skirts so long?" He said staring at her concealed legs.

"All my life," she replied. "How short of a skirt would you like?" She asked thinking to tease him.

"At least a full hand length above your knee," he replied placing his hand on her thigh to indicate the distance he meant.

She looked down at his hand on her thigh and felt a flush of excitement course through her veins. She did not move away and he did not move his hand for several seconds. He finally gave her thigh a squeeze and moved his hand back away from her.

"Sorry," he said, "even talking about your figure entices me to touch you."

"That's okay," she replied, her face still red. She missed the touch of his hand and wondered if she actually did wear a skirt as short as he indicated if he would have his hand on her bare skin. She quickly turned around to hide her embarrassment and headed up the next aisle.

They finished their shopping and checked out. Liz asked if Jack was interested in her coming over tomorrow just to hang out, after they reached her car in the parking lot

"Yes, I'd love to have you over for a visit. I didn't think you were serious." He responded.

"I like our time together shopping and would like to get to know you better. My husband, Pete, has no problem with us spending time together. He actually thinks it's good for me to be with you. He did love the top I bought because of you."

"Great, here is my phone number and address." He handed her a business card that only had his name, and occupation as retired, but not dead yet. It also had his phone number and address. "I use these since few can read my handwriting, plus I sometimes forget my address."

Liz took the card, put it in her purse and opened her arms to give him another hug. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a warm squeeze. This hug like the previous one lasted longer than what he thought was normal and he enjoyed the feel of her breasts against his chest. He thought to himself that since she hadn't complained the first time he fondled her breasts, he might try again.

He moved his right hand to just under her breast after finding that she only moved back slightly to give him access, he moved his other hand. He was now caressing both of her breasts and gently squeezing them. He did not stop and apologize as he did earlier, but after several seconds she pulled back.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. I assume 10 o'clock is a good time." She said pulling her keys from her purse.

Jack noticed her breathing had increased and her face was flushed. "That would be great. See you then." He then watched as she got into her car and drove off.

Liz dropped off her groceries at home then drove over to the shopping mall. She found short skirts everywhere she looked and did not have the problem she normally did finding clothes, although most seemed to be too short for her taste. She tried on several looking in the mirror and using her hand as a measuring tool they way Jack had, most were shorter that what Jack had indicated. She ended up picking one of the too short ones, but Jack had said it had to be at least that short.

She returned home and put away her purchase. She planned to wear it tomorrow and see how Jack reacted. She went about her daily activities and had dinner in the oven when her husband came home.

"Hi honey," he called out.

She turned and greeted her husband indicating that dinner was almost ready.

"Is that another new top?" He asked.

"Yeah, I figured since you liked the last one so much, I'd get another. You like?" she asked displaying herself. That was something she would have never even thought of doing before she had met Jack.

" I like it a lot. Did the old guy at the store encourage you to get it?"

"Actually he did, but not in so many words. He pointed out to me today what other women wore at the store and I now agree with you that I have been dressing like my grandmother."

"This guy is really good for you, and me too. Has he seen this top yet?"

"I wore it today to the store." She said, again uncertain if her husband would be upset with her displaying her body so openly to another man.

"Great. Did he like it? What did he say about it?"

Chapter 81

"He liked it, but when I told him that I felt like a whore dressed like this, he told me that he thought I'd been shamed at a young age about my body. That's when he started to point out what the other women in the store were wearing. I discovered that I was far more covered than all of them."

"This guy is very good for you. I am noticing that you have a bit more confidence now. You would have never worn anything like this before in front of me, much less out in public. Are you going to start to visit him, like we talked about last week?"

"I thought about paying him a visit tomorrow. I told him what you said and got his address."

"Good, I can't wait to hear all about it. I like the changes in you since you met this old guy."

Liz squeezed her hand together and looked her husband in the eye obviously embarrassed over what she was about to admit. "I gave Jack a hug this morning after he complemented me on this new top and pointing out that it wasn't as revealing as what others wore." She held her breath after she finished her confession awaiting the wraith she felt she deserved.

Her husband smiled, recognizing her discomfort, " I'm glad you hugged him, but be careful that you don't give the poor old guy a heart attack. I'm sure he hasn't had anyone as attractive as you hug him in years."

"Now I know you're teasing. Maybe if one of the pretty young women in the store hugged him, but I'm not in their league." She deflected.

"You really need to hang out with this guy more. I'm sure he doesn't agree with you."

"Well, he did say I'm pretty." She said with her head lowered.

"There is nothing wrong with a bit of flirting and it seems to be giving you some confidence in yourself. I think you should continue whatever it is that you are doing with this old guy. It's working. Hug him again for me."

The next morning Liz put on the new short skirt and looked at herself in the mirror. She felt so wanton, as if she were advertising for sex. She took a deep breath and pulled one of the other thin shirts she'd bought over her head. She had picked up a few more yesterday along with her new skirt since both Jack and Pete liked them.

She drove the several blocks to the store then two more to the address on the card. She parked her car in front of the modest home and noticed that she felt a quivering throughout her body. This was a strange feeling for her, but exciting. It wasn't fearful in any way, but she felt a bit nervous. She thought this must be arousal.

She got out of the car and walked up to the door, remembering her husband instructing her to give Jack a hug.

Jack answered the door dressed as he would be to go to the store, somewhere in the back of her mind, she was disappointed and hoped to see him in a bathrobe, but she quickly pushed that thought from her mind.

"Am I too early?" She asked.

"Not at all, come on in. I like the new skirt and top."

Jack opened his arms for a welcoming hug and embraced her; not as overt as the previous hugs, nor as long, but his open palms rested in the sides of her breasts. She wore a pale green top today that was just as thin as the white one she wore yesterday and a much shorter skirt. The skirt was also in a shade of green and pleated. It ended several inches above her knees but would not be considered a miniskirt. It needed to be a few inches higher before it could be called a mini.

Jack escorted Liz into his home and kitchen. "Would you like some coffee?" he asked as she seated herself onto one of his kitchen chairs.

He noticed immediately that she was unaccustomed to short skirts and as she took her seat her skirt rose giving him a very nice view of her white panties. He only paused a moment, before he shifted his gaze back to her face and awaited her response.

"Yes please," she answered. She did not adjust her skirt, but did squirm around a bit trying to get comfortable.

Jack set a cup of coffee in front of her along with a bowl of sugar and a carton of milk. He then took a seat facing her but without the table between them. "So did Pete like your new top?"

"He really did and again asked if you had recommended it."

She then told Jack about her conversation with her husband and how much he was encouraging her to continue seeing Jack. She even told him about her telling her husband about the hugs, but not telling him about the fondling.

Jack had been stealing glances between her open legs ever since they sat down. She seemed unaware of the view of her panties she was providing.

"Pete even told me that there was nothing wrong with flirting and that I should continue to flirt with you. He said it was good for me."

Jack must have paused in his response to her because she became aware of his gaze not being on her face. She looked down following his gaze and notice that her legs were slightly open and that the new skirt had risen up her thighs.

She looked up into Jack's face but did not close her legs nor adjust her skirt. Jack knew he's been caught staring at her panties.

"I like the new skirt; it shows off your thighs," he commented.

"Don't you think they are too fat?" she asked still not adjusted her skirt, or closing her legs."

"I would say they are voluptuous and very appealing. I'm trying not to stare, but you, in that skirt are very enticing. Your exposed thighs are highly seductive.

Liz again felt that strange sensation she'd felt in the car. She noticed that she enjoyed the attentions of Jack and when he didn't respond to her last comment she watched as his gaze shifted again lower to that space between her legs. She was uncertain if she should lift her skirt higher, spread her legs wider, or just leave everything the way it was. She feared that any change might end the pleasant sensations she now enjoyed. She squirmed in her seat and if it was as if her body knew what it wanted. Her skirt was now higher.

Not knowing what to do, but feeling slightly guilty from the voices in her head, but also remembering her husband telling her to flirt, she said, "Did you say you'd like to play cards?"

"I believe I said that I would not be able to focus on the cards since I'd be too busy staring at you." Jack countered.

Liz felt the heat rise again in her face as she contemplated telling him she wanted him to continue to stare. "I had trouble finding a skirt as you described, most were shorter, even this one is shorter that the one hand length you indicated," she said looking down at the wide expanse of exposed thigh. She placed her fingertips at the top of her knee and spread her legs a bit more so that the palm of her hand could rest on her inner thigh. "See?" she added.

Jack learned over closer and then placed his hand on her other thigh. Her skirt was already much higher than the hand measurement and her panties were clearly visible.

"Have you ever thought of wearing more daring panties?" He asked.

She removed her hand, lifted her skirt to her waist and looked down. "I've always worn underpants like this. Are there different kinds? Different colors?"

"Just like the top you are now wearing now and the skirt you found, there are panties out there that cover less, some are make of lace, or silk, some are even see though." He answered.

"I'm sure you can find plenty around if you look in the young women's sections, but if you would like some help, I'd be more than happy to assist you."

Jack still had his hand on her thigh. She looked down at it, enjoying the contact.

"That reminds me," she suddenly blurted out, "Pete told me to make sure I gave you a hug for him. He said the hugs and flirting with you was good for me." She then stood and stepped closer to Jack and opened her arms.

Jack stood and reached out to her. His hands cupped her breasts immediately and noticed her smile as he found her nipples. He had not touched her nipples in his previous gropes. She leaned into him and after several seconds he lowed one of his hand to her waist and then slipped it lower and onto her ass. His hand was over her skirt, but she sighed and moved closer to him. He lowered his hand until it was under her skirt and fondling one cheek.

This was the most erotic hug they had engaged in so far. Jake was concerned that he may have pushed Liz too far and that her husband Pete might not approve of him fondling his wife, but then again you only live once. Still he needed to talk with Liz about how far she was willing to go. He stepped back and noticed her arousal and knew she was close to stripping down. She had little experience with the sexual games most people played.

"We need to talk," Jack said sitting back down. "I am really enjoying hanging out with you and the fondling, but since you are married and I don't know Pete, we need to set up some ground rules."

"Like what?" Liz asked, "I hope you don't want to stop, I have never felt so alive and Pete likes the new me too."

"First off, have you told your husband that I've fondled your breasts? Do you think he'd be okay with that? Have you told him that I may be older than you, but I am not a decrepit old man? I love having my hands on you. I loved seeing your panties and fondling your butt, breasts and inner thigh. I really want to do more, but I can't jeopardize your marriage."

Jack paused and mentally kicked himself for being more concerned about her marriage than his own pleasures.

Liz paused a long time, before answering. "I've never felt so desired since I met you and I loved your hands on me. For so long I've lived with the shame and guilt that the things I thought of doing were wrong. Pete knows that we have hugged and flirted. He even encouraged it saying being with you was good for our marriage. I'm afraid to tell him more. I don't want this to end."

"I want it to continue too, but I don't think it's right to go any further than we already have until you talk with him. If you want to put limits to go no further than just hugs and let me stare at your erotic body, then we can just do that, but I cannot caress your thigh, butt, or breasts anymore."

"But I like that too."

"Talk to Pete and let me know where we go from here."

Liz left, she knew Jack was right and she could not afford to make her mother right. She lifted her head and headed home prepared to address the issue head on regardless of outcome.

She spent the rest of the day rehearsing what she planned to tell Pete. She considered lying to Jack that Pete as okay with everything, but she'd never been good at lying. She considered not telling Pete everything, but that was too close to lying. She had to tell him everything including how she felt wearing the sexy clothes and having Jack's hands on her.

Pete came home at the normal time and Liz was ready as she could be. He wanted to know how her day with Jack had gone. He noticed the short skirt and loved it, even commented that he'd love to see her in an even shorter skirt.

She said that today went well and she really enjoyed her time with Jack, but she had to be honest with him about her relationship with this older man. She started out by saying that Jack was a healthy and fit man who walked often, did not need a cane and did not act as most old men. She knew he was retired, but was not ready for a nursing home. She even showed Pete the business card Jack had given her and the occupation --retired but not dead.

She talked about the flirting and Pete said that was normal and he had no problem with it. She had to stop him and described the first hug where Jack caressed her breasts and she not only allowed it, but encouraged it.

She told him about the second hug and breast massage, then told him about her time with Jack today and her showing off her panties and his hand on her inner thigh. She told him about the hug that involved her breasts, nipples, and butt.

She finished up by telling him that Jack was calling a stop to everything unless she told Pete about everything and if he agreed then ground rules and limits had to be set.

After Liz had finished her confession, she appeared visibly shaken. Pete knew he had to set her mind at ease. He was starting to like this guy a lot. Not many would respect the husband. "Does he want to meet me?"

"He didn't say anything about that, but he did say that you are the one to set the rules."

"I like this guy and I really like the effect he is having on you. I'm not sure you would have ever admitted any of this before you met-- what's his name?"

"His name is Jack."

"Oh yea, it on his card. I love that—Retired, but not dead. You have always been so secretive and afraid of everything. You now are standing in front of me with your shoulders back and ready for whatever might happen."

"You're not mad?" Liz asked.

"Not at all, but I do have a question and a comment."

"Yes?" She asked.

"What do you want do? I mean how to you want to proceed with Jack?"

"Well...I... I haven't really thought about it. It is your decision."

"I don't believe that. I'm sure you have thought about it. Do you want things to remain the same as Jack asked? Do you want to move forward? How far? Would you like to be naked with him? Do you want to move in with him? Or just have him as a friend with benefits?" Pete asked.

"Honestly, I haven't thought that far. I would like it to continue and to see how far it will go. I do not want to leave you or make you jealous in any way. I like the attention and I like his hands on me, but I will do whatever you say and if you don't want me to ever see him again, that is what will happen."

"Actually I want you to continue seeing him and see where it goes. I also want to hear about it all."

"Okay," she said not quite believing what she was hearing. "You also said you had a comment."

"I did and I just wanted to say I love the new you. I still think Jack is very good for you. Did you set up a date and time to see each other again?"

"No, it was dependent on how this conversation went." Liz answered.

Pete handed Jack's card back to Liz, "You want to call him now and set something up?"

"Okay. Are you sure you're okay with him seeing my underwear and caressing my inner thigh? He did suggest that there was more sexy underwear available and he'd love to see me wear some. He even offered to help me shop for some." Liz replied.

"That sounds fantastic. Call him now and tell him that you will have surprise for him tomorrow then you and I are going shopping.

Liz called Jack and told him she'd talked with Pete and everything was fine. She'd explain it all tomorrow plus she'd have a surprise for him that Pete was planning.

Liz was tingling all over on her way to Jack's house. The talk with Pete had turned out far better than she could have imagined and the surprise that Pete bought from the store that Liz had never knew even existed before added to her excitement.

She parked her car and approached his front door. She knocked and waited for him to answer the door.

"Hi Liz, I'm really glad to see you. Come on in." Jack said to the smiling woman wearing a grey top similar to the others. This one was almost as thin as the white one and accentuated her breasts and nipples nicely.

She walked in and took her seat at the table. Before Jack could offer her a cup of coffee she started to tell him about last night and what a great idea it was to talk with her husband. He loved the idea of what they had already done and the effect Jack had on her. He loved the new Liz.

She told him everything and was exuberant as she described the evening. They can proceed as far as they want and Pete wants to hear all about it each night.

Jack had prepared a cup of coffee for her, but did not want to interrupt her story. He was also pleased and excited.

"I'm glad it all worked out. I was afraid that our play time was over," he commented. So far he had not glanced down to see if her legs were open. It seemed as if she was squeezing them closed tightly in a pose that seemed uncomfortable.

Liz noticed that he looked down and asked, "You haven't asked about the surprise yet. Are you interested?"

"You mean there is another surprise?"

Liz slowly opened her legs, but the skirt did not rise, so she had to adjust it upwards. Jack's eyes followed her progress at the ever-expanding bare flesh of her thighs. She moved the skirt higher and inched her legs wider until he expected to see white underpants, but instead saw a small pair of very sexy lace underwear that could not have been bought at a department store.

Her thighs were spread but not wide, her skirt was raised but not to her waist. Jack wanted to caress her sensual thighs but restrained himself. Instead he leaned in closer to take in the view and the glorious scent.

Liz held her thighs open and her skirt high for several minutes before asking, "Pete seemed to think you would like this. You did mention that there was more available than the underpants I normally wear."

"Pete was right. I love seeing these, you are so sexy and I want to just bury my face between those sumptuous thighs of yours."

Liz started to pant and spread her legs wider. The view presented to Jack aroused him to the point of distraction. Her vertical crease was prominently displayed, her pubic hair matted from the moisture and Jack moved his face closer feeling her thighs press against his cheeks, He inhaled deeply taking in her musty scent, before moving back.

"What else did Pete say," Jack asked as he returned to his chair. Liz had not closed her legs nor lowered her skirt. His eyes stayed focused on the moisture between her legs.

"That we should hug more," Liz commented, "and he was okay with the fondling."

Jack stood. Liz followed and the hugging commenced. This time the hugging lasted longer and after Liz had both cheeks of her butt massaged, Jack raised his hand back to her breasts, but this time He slipped his hands under her top and toyed with her nipples.

After they returned to the chairs and coffee, Jack asked if she would be interested in wearing some more risqué clothing, such as crop tops where he could more easily slip his hands onto her bare breasts.

She readily agreed and asked if he was planning on fondling her inside the store in front of those other women.

They continued to talk about clothing she could wear and how she could display herself. Most of the time Liz made sure Jack had a good view of the space between her legs.

"Pete is going to be so happy you liked the panties he picked out for you." She commented after an hour long conversation with her legs spread.

"I would love to see the entirety of your panties." Jack finally admitted. "Would you take off your skirt and allow me to see the view from the rear?"

Liz beamed at this suggestion and quickly stood and removed her skirt then turned around and leaned over to display her barely covered butt. Jack couldn't help himself and started to caress her bottom. She moved back onto his hands and when he stopped, she asked if he wanted her to remove her top too, but before he could answer her top was on the floor.

Jack found himself hugging a near naked Liz and allowed his hands free range; he caressed her breasts, pinching her nipples, squeezing her bottom, and even ran his finger up the front of her panties. They stopped when their breathing indicated he was wearing too many clothes.

"I think it's time to end this playtime before we go further than we talked about," Jack said stepping back.

Liz put on her clothes, kissed Jack, "I'll have to have a talk with Pete before we go further, but I'm certain that maybe not right away but we will end up both naked soon."

She left and was surprised at the time. Pete was due home in less than twenty minutes.

She had gotten home mere minutes before her husband.

"Hi honey," he announced as he entered the front, "how's it go with Jack today?"

Chapter 82

"Well, I just got home if that tells you anything, but right now I need you naked and on top of me." Liz replied, leading her husband into their bedroom.

An hour and a half later, both lay exhausted and Liz started to tell him about her day with Jack and why she attacked him as soon as he got home.

"So Jack liked the panties?" Pete asked.

"He liked them so much he wanted to take them off of me with his teeth," she relayed.

"Did you let him?" Pete asked.

"He didn't, but I had him get so close that I could feel his hot breath on my pussy, through my panties and felt his cheeks pressing against my thighs. I thought he was going to lick me, but sadly not this time."

"Wow! That's hot, so you never took off the panties?" Pete asked.

"He asked to see the panties from the rear, so I took off my skirt and allowed him a close up view of my butt. He does like to caress my butt, but again he held back and that's when I took off my top and hugged him."

"No wonder you were so honey, when I got home. I assume he stopped before you went much further."

"Yeah, I told him that I'd talk to you about how far he and I can go, but told him that eventually he and I would be naked together," Liz shared.

The next several days either Jack or Liz were busy and could not get together, although Jack did manage to get to an adult store to pick up a present for Liz's husband to repay him for the panties Liz wore the other day.

Thursday morning at 10 AM in front of the store after several days of not seeing each other Jack stood waiting to see Liz's car.

Liz drove up, got out of her car, waved to Jack and the first thing he noticed was the top she wore. Her stomach was not covered at all. He wasn't certain at this distance, but he thought he could just make out the underside of her breasts.

As she approached him, he noticed that the top she wore was a light shade of tan, or flesh tone so that at a distance she appeared topless. The top covered her breasts, but not her navel and the skirt she wore appeared to have a low waist. There was a lot of exposed skin and Jack loved it.

"I really like your new top and skirt," he said.

"Thanks, you did ask for me to get a top that was more accessible. This is what I found. Want to try it out?" Liz confirmed.

With that she opened her arms wide and threw them around his neck. Her top rose up a bit as she lifted her arms and Jack quickly slid his hands under her loose top and onto her bare breasts. Her nipples were already hardened indicating her arousal.

When he noticed her snuggling in closer to him he lowered one hand to grip her bottom. He thought he felt a pair of sexy panties rather that the cotton underpants she wore the first time he felt her butt. He gave her a gentle squeeze then released her and they both walked into the store.

Liz now wore clothes more similar to what the other women wore. She was no longer out of place, nor was she wearing the most revealing of clothes. Several other women wore clothing more see though that what Liz wore.

They talked about what has been going on to keep them each so busy and Pete's response to what had happened between the two of them. Liz told Jack about attacking her husband as soon as he got home and described the best sex she'd ever had. Pete was also extremely pleased with that state he found his wife in after spending the afternoon with Jack.

"I'm so happy to hear you and Pete had a great evening. So did the newfound sexual energy last all week? Is that why you were so busy?" Jack asked.

"I wish, but no. Life got in the way. The sex was a one-night thing. The next day I went out and got this new top, but today is the first time I wore it. I need the arousal you gave me," she confessed, "Pete agrees and hopes that you will continue to play our little game."

"Did you establish any ground rules for our playtime?" Jack asked.

"Not really. I told Pete about everything we did including you having your face between my legs and my disappointment when you didn't lick me. He said it sounds as if we had a really good time and he couldn't think of a single restriction. He said we should just do what feels right and to see how far it goes."

"So he's not jealous at all?" Jack asked.

"Are you kidding? He loves the new me and even asked me last night when I was going to see you again. I think he wants another sexual marathon." Liz giggled. "He really liked that you enjoyed the erotic panties so much and asked a lot of questions about where you touched me and where you put your face. He wanted to know if I could feel more than just your breath on my pussy."

"You want to come over today after we finish shopping or maybe tomorrow? I missed playing our game with you too. I also have a present for you and Pete," Jack asked.

"I'll have to drop off my groceries at home, but how about if I come over at 11? It's 10:15 now and I'm done with my shopping. If we hold off on the hug in the parking lot until I get over to your place, I'll show you my new panties."

"Sound like a great plan. Why don't you go ahead and check out? I have a couple more items to get then I'll head home and put on a pot of coffee." Jack replied.

Liz moved with purpose to the cashier, paid with her card, and took her bags out to her car without looking back. Jack watched her leave thinking of how she would look wearing the gift he had for her and Pete.

He finished his shopping and headed home. He had the groceries put away and the coffee ready before 11. He put out the sugar and milk. Just as he set two cups on the counter he heard the knock at the door. She was early by ten minutes if his kitchen clock was correct.

Jack opened the door and allowed a very exuberant Liz inside. She threw her arms around him and gave him a warm hug. This was a happy to see you hug and not the sexualized hugs they shared before. He was certain the erotic hugs, plus more, would come later.

Liz went to her normal seat at the table, adjusted her skirt upwards then noticed the bag on the table in front of her. "Is this the present you mentioned?"

"It is. Go ahead and open it." Jack said with a grin.

He watched as she shifted to open the package. He knew she would intentionally raise her skirt and open her legs for him, but this was accidental and he noticed a very small triangle of red material.

Liz pulled the package out of the bag and examined what appeared to be a handful of straps with Velcro at the ends. She looked over at Jack with a quizzical look and held up the straps.

Jack had anticipated her confusion since the package had no picture, nor instructions. He handed her a sheet of paper he had on the counter. It was a picture from the Internet of the item she held in her hand only in the picture there was a model wearing it. It was a fetish item that although covering the essential bits it left a lot of skin exposed. One strap went across her nipples and crisscrossed her back. One strap served as a belt to support the single thin strap going between her legs covering very little.

"The Velcro allows adjustment so that one size fits all, plus it is easy to get off," Jack said, "want to try it on?"

"I'd love to," Liz said. "Is this for us or for me and Pete?"

"I figured this would be just for you and Pete. You can wear this when he comes home after a hard day at work." Jack stated, "besides I think you and Pete got a new present for me and it's red."

"That we did. You could not have gotten a very good view with my moving around so much opening this gift." She said as she centered herself on the chair and spread her legs. The skirt she wore was shorter that the last one she had and moved easily out of the way to not obstruct his vision.

Liz again shifted in her chair and hiked her skirt even higher. She wore what looked like a string bikini bottom, but much thinner material. It was completely see though and very small. She had gotten waxed since he last saw between her legs and now only had a small patch of pubic hair. Jack moved closer.

"You said that both you and Pete liked it when I got very close between your legs last week," Jack commented as he approached her on his knees.

"That we did," Liz commented, "and Pete said you should "get a much closer view than you did last time, both from the front and the back."

Jack moved closer as Liz spread her legs further apart. Jack pressed his lips on Liz's intimate lips though thin material and blew his breath onto her. She shuddered and with that small encouragement he extended his tongue and licked the bare skin around the small triangle of material. After another shudder from Liz, he rose to step back to take his seat at the table.

"I loved that," Liz said, "and now the back." She stood and took off her skirt, then turned around and bent over resting her arms on the table.

Jack moved in closer noticing just a thin string running between her cheeks. Liz spread her legs and Jack saw that the string could not completely cover her puckered hole. He moved on closer and she moved back until his cheeks caressed hers.

Liz sighed at the contact and soon was making a lot more noise after Jack pushed his tongue deep between her legs. After several minutes Liz stood and announced, "Now without the panties."

Jack moved back to allow her room. She slipped off her panties and said, "Pete was okay with us being naked together." She pulled off her top and pointed at Jack. "Your turn."

Jack stripped off his clothes and again approached Liz. She leaned over the table as before, but this time she only allowed him a few licks before standing, turning around, and sitting back on the chair with her legs spread wide. Jack licked her deeply several times until she had her first orgasm with him.

She pushed him back and got onto her knees in front of him. She licked his cock up from his balls to his tip, before taking him into her mouth. She cradled his balls and again licked him up and down, making sure to take him in her mouth whenever she reached his tip. She alternated licking him and sucking him while gently squeezing his balls.

She had him place one foot on the chair and made sure he was well supported before she started to suck his balls. A minute later the ball sucking was added to the rotation of licking up his cock, then taking his cock deep into her mouth. Jack maintained his control for longer than Liz expected, so her sucking become more intense and Jack stiffened. Liz held him deep in her mouth and gently scratched his balls until he exploded and released all of the cum he had down her throat. Once he finished she again licked him for several more minutes until his cock was again soft.

"Pete said we have to make sure we get together for our playtime at least twice a week, not counting the shopping days." Liz informed Jack.

"That means we get naked together three times each week?" He asked.

Liz just smiled.

She dressed and left; it was late and Pete may be already home she said as she left, "I'll call you later to set up our next visit."

Liz beat Pete home and hoped she had time to put on the gift Jack had given them. She had not tried it on at Jack's but it did appear to be easy enough to understand. She was right and had it on and adjusted before Pete walked in the front door and saw her standing nearly naked.

Seeing his wife wearing something straight out of a fetish magazine excited him beyond measure. He barely remembered to close the door before he gathered up Liz in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

Two hours later Liz told him about her day with Jack and that she had told him they were to get together twice a week for fun and games.

"If this is what I have to look forward to when you come home, I'd say, you need to play with him every day. I love the new outfit; I assume it's a gift from Jack." Pete told his now naked wife.

Chapter 83

Let me start this by saying at the time, we lived in a rural East Texas area, a nice 2-story home, that had a family room on both levels, the lower family room walked right out to our pool and spa. The lower level also had the master suite and laundry room.

During a week where we were going to have a number of house guests our water heater and washing machine both committed suicide together. The water heater required replacing, but according to the plumber that arrived the washing machine only needed a few parts to get it running good as new again.

When he arrived, I was in a short sundress that showed off my ample 38DD cleavage and freckles. I showed him to the room with the dead appliances and he smiled a youngish sort of smile, not a boy smile, but like a young man who could be all business or all play depending on the whim of the moment. Yes, I of course noticed that his eyes dipped below my chin and drank in the expanse of my natural cleavage, making me perhaps breath just a bit heavier than normal, offering a nice movement of my girls.

I could see him turning to work as I walked back into the family room, and as I retreated, I couldn't help but wonder, what would he think of this soccer mom if he knew I was totally nude under my sundress? As I mused on that point, I decided today was another good day of being the exhibitionist that hubby loved for me to be. Who knows where it might lead?

I sat down in a comfy chair and pretended to read a women's magazine, but I was watching my technician do his "thing" with our appliances. He looked my way a few times and smiled. I let my eyes smile back at him over the top of the magazine. I had no idea what I was reading. He soon came out to tell me the water heater was toast and would need to be replaced. He informed me we could get the same size unit, or we could opt for a bigger unit if we would like. I smiled at him and said I'm always in favor of a bigger unit, if it means better service. He knew, and smiled, telling me he would run to the shop for a new water heater and be back in 30 minutes.

While he was away I busied myself by heating up several danish pastries and making a fresh pot of coffee. I had told him to bring the water heater in through the side gate and onto the patio to our large French doors and I would let him in.

I heard his truck stop and knew he would soon be in the back yard. I started to straighten a few things on the coffee table near the doors and in clear view of the large floor to ceiling windows, and since I was bent over the table, my dress was hiked up in the back giving him almost the view I was hoping he desired. I pretended as though I didn't hear him until he was right at the door. Then I looked sideways at him, hoping he also got a more open view of my cleavage, helped along by three buttons that had somehow come open.

I moved to the doors and opened them both widely and smiled a welcome to him. I patted the water heater and said, "oh this is definitely an engorged unit compared to the older model, and I do like and appreciate that." I smiled his way again and followed up, "I hope it will fit, it looks like it could definitely be a tight fit." He laughed and almost dropped the dolly he had the water heater riding on.

When he got it into the laundry room he turned and replied, "it may be tight but I guarantee my fit and know you will be a happy customer when I get done." I let him see an eyebrow being raised. We both knew we were toying with each other via our words and it was exciting to say the least. It was having the desired effect on my pussy, soaking wet at the moment.

Toying with a plumber was not something I can say I had fantasized about, but here I was almost ready to approach him bare-assed naked and through my wantonness at him, begging to be violated in any number of ways.

While he got back to work, I busied myself in the family room giving him quick views of my tits when I felt I could. He was always smiling my way as I did, making me wonder how he ever got any work accomplished. After 30 minutes I told him I had some danish rolls heating up and a fresh pot of coffee and said I would grab some cups and napkins and be right back.

He tried to make an excuse that he needed to finish his work, but I would have nothing of any excuse and insisted he sit with me for a quick break. He agreed, saying, "a quick break wouldn't hurt." I smiled what I hoped was a wicked sexy smile, "oh even a quickie that hurt might be fun, who knows." And I laughed knowing my words caught him by surprise.

I sat across from him with the coffee table separating us. He didn't notice that I had pulled the hem of my skirt up higher than normal as I sat down and when I wasn't being cautious with my legs, he was getting a very unobstructed view of my bald honey hole. As we drank coffee and ate, I asked if it had been as tight a fit as I thought it might be, and he smiled again, "yes ma'am it was extremely tight, the older unit was just growing tired and couldn't perform as it once did I am sure. You will definitely enjoy the output of this new unit." As he finished, I let my legs open wider and asked, "can we test it out before you are finished to ensure it fits well?" I know some tight fits might need lubrication, but I think you will find ample lube is already available." He gulped his coffee and merely nodded as he watched me unbutton the rest of my dress, my mature 38DD's coming free and showing him how big my saucer shaped areolas were and how thick my nipples had already gotten in my desires to fuck this technician.

I stood up and motioned for him to stay seated. I moved over in front of him and took his hands and brought them up to cup my tits. I whispered to him, "hand bras are so wonderful." He took the hint and began to massage my titties, as I moaned and nudged my way between his now open legs. I knelt before him and grabbed his head and brought his lips to my nipples, "show me how wild a lover you can be, don't be gentle," I begged him.

He quickly had me jumping as his teeth found flesh and tormented my nips in a frantic sort of way. I grabbed his hair and simply pulled him tighter into my tit flesh begging him to leave marks and make them sore.

I started to work on his belt buckle and then his zipper and soon he lifted his butt off the sofa and I quickly pulled his pants and underwear down to expose an extremely hard and very, I mean very thick dick. I knew I was going to be sore by the end of this service call. I also had to get his phone number so I could be assured he would do a return call after all our house guests had left. I knew I would need to have all connections rechecked for a tight fit and certain areas lubed again.

I solicited the sound I wanted to hear when my red lips encased the head of his cock, he moaned in a deep guttural sort of way. He released my milk bags and grabbed my head and before I could breathe again he pushed my head down on his rigid dick. He had no idea at that time how I loved being used in such a way, and I reveled in the gagging reflex I offered him, the back of my throat tickling the tip of his thick cock. He let me come up for air, only to plunge my face and mouth back onto his manmeat. I was loving this treatment and wanted to beg him to not stop, but I was stuffed with dick and could only groan.

He apparently spotted hubby's antique barber's chair as he scooped me into his arms and he stood up with me almost impaled on his dick, oh how I wanted it in me. He sat me in the chair and put my legs over the arms of it so my cunt was completely exposed as was my sweet tight asshole too.

I begged him to fuck me, but he only smiled an evil grin and shook his head, he knelt before my wet hole and sampled the wetness on his tongue and soon he was devouring my cunt lips just as he had done with my nipples. I begged for more, to torment my clit, to tease my asshole. He left no area untouched, even teasing and probing my piss hole with the tip of his tongue. He soon had me screaming out a very wet and sloppy orgasm, I was squirting a solid stream of my juices into his face and he was groveling for more. Next, he was rubbing my cunt juices that were on his face all over my tits. Then he offered my tits to me to suck and I did so as he watched greedy for him to fuck me, to impale me with that monster cock of his.

He stood up to kiss me and I tasted more of me on his wet lips. I love the taste of my cunt and asshole, just ask my lovers and my hubby.

In a surprise move he stood up on the foot pedestal and turned me over so my ass was up in the air. He lubed a finger with my cunt and into my ass he went, first one finger, struggling past my muscle, then two. I was in heaven, oh I love a hot ass fuck, even without lube in some situations. This time was a moment that I only required a little lube from my wet pussy. He popped inside my anus and from there it was an anal frenzy. As I was being finger fucked in my tight ass I felt him pushing my butt lower and I knew I was about to experience a wonderful double penetration with his dual fingers in my ass and his thick cock in my pussy.

It wasn't long before his other hand had his male member in hand and was massaging my labia and I felt myself swell even more. My clit begged his attention and I heard myself begging to be fucked. He teased me with just the head inside and then he pulled out to spank my cunt more with his shaft. I knew I had died and gone to heaven with this plumber turned lover. He could do service calls on me any time he liked. I was hearing his cock slap against my pussy lips in a quickness that soon was taking my breath away because the slaps got harder and harder, and I knew at some point, known only to him, he would plunge his dick into my wet dark cavern and I would feel my legs turn to jelly as he did, the mere thought made me shake.

Yes, I was right, in the blink of an eye, his cock head was hitting my cervix, something hubby could not do with his. He had plunged so deeply into me it caused me to grunt like a feral pig and I knew I was about to receive a fucking like I had not felt in months. I had been invaded and stretched in a very intense fashion and I was soon panting with every stroke. I heard myself begging that he not cum quickly, that he keep on fucking my cunt, yes I was using that word that I hardly ever spoke, so I knew just how very horny I was and in such a wanton need for this fuck.

I am a wife, mother, and respected member of our community and yet here I was groveling, begging to be fucked as if I were simply a common whore. At some point I felt my ass stinging and realized he was randomly spanking my ass cheeks and knew they must be red because of how intense the stinging was feeling. Though his palm slaps were hurting I heard myself begging that he do them harder and that he does not stop. It was then that my cunt unleashed a flow of my squirting juices and I knew I was soaking him and the barber chair collectively.

Then I began to realize that hubby never gives me this kind of fucking and oh how wild it would be for him to see me being used in this way. I looked over at an antique chair and in my eyes I saw him bound in that chair, his hands unable to touch his raging hard on he had developed as he watched and listened to his wife, the mother of our children begging and pleading to be fucked harder, deeper, begging for the pounding to never stop.

The fucking was so rhythmic I prayed it never ceased. I could hear my lover breathing heavier, then he slowed and as he did he reached under me to fondle my titties as they swung wildly. My nipples were pinched until I winced, then just as with my ass cheeks, he began to randomly apply his palms to my milk bags, slapping them over and over until they glowed a bright red. I knew then his palm prints must be on my ass.

As fertile as I had to be I heard myself begging him to dump his manly seed deep inside my cunt. I heard my own voice begging for him to breed me. Oh, dear God did we need another child brought into this world, not by hubby but instead by a man I hardly knew, one I had just met. What a slut I was turning into, yet the words were being verbalized, I wanted his child, wanted his cunt swimmers in me and soon I could feel it, I was being rewarded. His grunting grew wild and I knew he was splashing against my womb canal. Hubby this was the opportunity that we spoke of during sex, that situation that we had simply fantasized about, but today I had seized the moment with this perfect stranger, right here in our home, he was taking me as though I were his to fuck and I was begging for more.

When he finally released my tits and slowly backed out of me, I heard a big dollop of cum hit the foot rest of the barber chair and knew I would soon be cleaning that up, probably nude and reveling in the heat of the moment.

As I watched him dress, I sat in the chair and didn't realize I was massaging his cum back into my cunt, wanting to keep it inside as long as possible. I smiled at him, thanking him for the multiple orgasms and at the same time apologizing for getting him so wet. He laughed and said no need for apology, he loved ever stroke. As he gathered his tools, I asked about the bill. He told me that we would get a bill for the parts and the water heater, but his work was on the house. I nodded and stood to get close to him once again. I reached up to kiss him full on the lips, feeling his scruffy 5:00 o'clock shadow and I reached to fondle his now smaller cock and told him after our kiss that any time he felt we should be serviced to give me a call, I'm sure he would find a leak that needed his attention. I could only imagine what he might do with me the next time.

Chapter 84

"For Christ's sake why do you always have to be so bloody reasonable? Don't you care?" Sophie rarely raised her voice, but this was a shout.

"If you don't know now you never will. You are the most important and precious thing in my life bar only my children. I don't just care for you, I adore you. But a knee-jerk reaction to what you just asked me isn't going to get either of us anywhere. We will both end up saying things we don't mean or things we regret."

Sophie looked me straight in the eyes, put her hands on her hips, paused a moment, but then dropped them to her side, walked over and threw her arms round me.

"I'm sorry. Many times I've exploited your reasonableness; I can't turn round now and complain. It's just that it was so difficult to ask and I suppose I had hoped for a reaction that would clarify my own mind." Sophie's voice was now calm and conciliatory.

"It's o.k. I understand why my cool response might be inflammatory. What do you know about his present circumstances?" I asked.

"He's got some kind of high powered City job playing with other peoples' money and earning himself squillions. He was married for a time but says it's over. No children, and he lives on his own in a £3 million flat in St Katharine's Dock by Tower Bridge."

Stuart Newton had been Sophie's lover when he was a post-grad student in Oxford. They had parted, at Sophie's insistence, when it became obvious that the relationship was too fraught with difficulties to continue. Just recently he had sent her a message via their college, asking if she would meet him in London. It was the first time she had heard from him in 13 years.

"I'm struggling to find a reason for him contacting you. Curiosity? To show off his fantastic sexual prowess? To boast about how well he's done? To screw up any relationship you may now have and carry you off as a trophy to demonstrate the amazing power of all these wonderful things?" I was interested to know if Sophie had any better explanation.

By now Sophie was grinning. "That's better. I'm much more comfortable when you get sarcastic. It feels as if you're becoming defensive, instead of just sitting on the wall and watching the flowers grow. The answer to your question is that I don't have a better explanation. Maybe he's bored?"

"Are you happy to alleviate his boredom? What do you think you might get out of it? Apart of course from gymnastic sex with someone more than twenty years younger than me." (A bit more sarcasm from me since that appeared to be appreciated.)

"Whey-hey! You're jumping the gun a bit, aren't you? Who said anything about having sex with him?" Sophie was calling me to account. O.K.

"Well it looks like a bloody great pink elephant in the room to me, and it's got its tusks painted bright red as a warning. Do you think that he is inviting you up to take you out to an exotic meal and stay in his palatial flat, just so that he can show you his stamp collection?" Careful, don't lay the sarcasm on too thick.

There was silence for a minute (60 seconds). Quite long, as silences go.

"O.K. let's address the bright pink jumbo with flashing red tusks: how would you react to him screwing me?"

"If you go up there to meet him I will have factored in the possibility of him screwing you. I would hate the idea, but I would not try to stop you - just as you told Eleni that you didn't own me, and it was up to me to decide if I wished to pleasure her bottom. The thing that would trouble me most is the possibility of you and he deciding, explicitly or by default, to start up a relationship again. So if it was one fuck I can take it, any more would be cruel to me, and I don't react well to cruelty." I hoped that was not too obscure.

"You're a good man, and you have reacted like one. I completely understand your position and thank you for reminding me of the Eleni incident. I won't start a relationship, and I may not fuck either."

"The other thing I would ask is that you give me a full account of what happens. I am old enough and experienced enough to deal with it, but not knowing is corrosive to a happy relationship."

"That's completely reasonable. Agreed. And thank you."

* * * * *

We were in Oxford. It was July 2020, and we had been together for a year since our return from Greece. We had three homes between us, but in their ways they were all necessary, and they were all used by our families as well as ourselves. My son Ben was in the Dulverton house most of the time: he works with the Exmoor National Park Authority. The house is ideally placed for him and enables him to live on his modest salary and save a bit for buying his own cottage.

In London the flat was occupied by my daughter Jo who works for a publisher.

Sophie's daughters were away: Beth was near Bournemouth on the south coast and is a specialist nurse, married to a paramedic; Tanya is living with her wife in Faringdon and they are both teachers.

Last, but certainly not least, is my son Phil who is a scientist working for a drug company in Germany. He is a committed Triathlete and competes regularly across the globe.

The Covid-19 lockdown had restricted our movements, and we had spent the previous four months in Oxford. Now it was possible to move around a bit more I was anxious to go to my own house in Dulverton. I missed it, and all the things that made Oxford potentially special -- music, theatre, bookshops, restaurants and pubs and specialist food shops -- had been shut up, so the rural option seemed even more attractive.

The lockdown had been stressful for everyone, but we were trying to establish a comfortable way of living together and attempting, at the same time, to preserve elements of our separate lives. The first five months were good, because we moved freely between our three residences. While we were in Oxford I had access to wonderful libraries for my work, as well as the other delights I describe above. From Sophie's point of view there was her natural affinity for the countryside, and her happy relationship with Ben. She also enjoyed the museums and libraries of Bloomsbury, for the odd days we spent in London.

Now though we had just endured 4 months of frustration, and I suppose that my indulgence - if that's what it was - towards Sophie and her lover from 17 years ago, was at least partly due to acceptance that a bit of freedom would be good for both of us. We walked to the station together, hand in hand as usual, and I tried to put aside potential misgivings. Trust was everything, and I needed to show it if I wanted it affirmed by her actions.

* * * * *

Hello, I'm Sophie. Tom's told me that the 'full report' he has asked for could be written as a section of our story that he has been chronicling since we met. It has been a full and frank record and only names and a few details of location have been changed. Tom has been honest in his record, so I will continue the same way.

I felt such a debt of gratitude to Tom that I was determined to behave myself! I say that, but since I met Tom I have not been tempted to indulge in the misbehaviour that has been part of my history. If I have been lonely on occasions in the past I have to say I have often had only myself to blame.

We said goodbye at the station. I squeezed his hand and whispered "You have no need to worry". Why was I doing this odd thing? Partly through guilt, because it was me that ended my relationship with Stuart; partly through the need to get out and do something potentially slightly wild; and partly out of curiosity to see how this young man had turned out.

The train from Oxford to London Paddington took just under an hour. From there I caught an underground (tube) to Tower Hill and took a 10 minute walk into the Katharine Docks complex, where Stuart's flat was on the third floor, looking across the river and the marina.

The timing had worked well. It was about 5.30pm. The evening started quite comfortably. We sat in the beautiful flat and I drank tea while he drank coffee and we talked about mutual acquaintances, some of whom he knew as fellow students, some had been colleagues of mine. I think that Tom has recorded that Stuart was 22 when we came together, and that there was a 17-year difference in our ages -- I think actually he was 23 and I was 42, so there's 19 years between us. I suppose because of the closeness of our past relationship there was no awkwardness now. We all experience sometimes the feeling that a suspended relationship seems never to have stopped. We just pick up enough threads to rapidly rebuild the pattern.

What was his appearance like: how had he changed after 13 years? Well this is where the gap was very discernible. He hadn't started to shrink (yet) so he was still six feet tall. He was, however, a lot heavier. I had known him as a barely-mature young adult, quite skinny and weighing not much more than 10 stone. I guessed that he had added at least another 2 stone to that.

With the extra weight his face was fuller. I disliked the fashionable stubble that covered his face, and one discreet wedding ring is all that a man needs, not a whole set of digital decorations. He wore the standard uniform of his kind: dark single-breasted suit and white open-necked shirt. He wasn't, in any way, the man that I had tossed around with in bed all those years ago. Nevertheless he still had charm, and even glimmerings of that spark that had attracted me in the first place. By the time we had finished character-assassinating our peers and remembering a few choice bits of our times together it was time to set off for dinner.

We walked across the bridge to reach a pleasant French restaurant on the other side. After we'd placed our orders and there was a bottle of wine, a basket of bread and a bottle of water on the table I said to him "Are you going to tell me what this is all about Stuart? I'm a bit puzzled."

"I'm at a sort of crossroads. I've cleared up all the mess from the divorce and I'm trying to decide whether I want to continue this lifestyle and this high-adrenalin, exhausting way of earning a living."

"Do you still get a kick out of it?" I asked.

"Oh yes. When it goes well I can't imagine anything better. The trouble is that I find it very difficult to manage relationships that last: the job and the type of woman whom it attracts are not made for a permanent attachment. I could attract any number of women ten or fifteen years younger, but the attraction is so superficial that I'm bored with them after two or three fucks, and it's probably mutual."

"Poor lamb," I cooed. Must be careful not to be too sympathetic, I told myself.

The first course arrived.

"I still think the City world is exciting, and I might try to find some other niche within it, to hang on to the excitement. But that still leaves the problem of how to find a companion." Stuart continued to relay the story of his present life.

"Do you ever think about an academic life again?" I asked.

"Good God no! It's full of ageing weasels, waiting to chew each other's balls in an effort to prove who's right, who's best. After the City it would seem like an early death."

There was a pause, but as I refrained from commenting on that gross generalisation (which admittedly contained an element of truth) he went on: "I'm looking for someone with a bit of maturity, who can bring some stability into my life."

I could scarcely believe my ears. "So where do I come into the picture?"

"Well, you brought stability and maturity into my life once before. I've often thought about that time with gratitude -- why couldn't we do it again?"

I stared at him and after a suitable pause I said "I'll tell you why: because I don't want to. There's not even a tiny flicker of interest stirring in me. I'm now 57, not 42; I don't want to live in London; I am not in the business of supporting a guy to do a job that I despise; I doubt very much that I would like your friends or what they get up to; and I can't bear to think what life would be like when I'm 70 and you're 51."

The next course arrived. There was silence for a while, then "Why do you despise the job I do?" he asked, sounding genuinely shocked.

"Because you're parasites. You move vast amounts of other peoples' money around the world, and in the process cream off a large chunk which you use to pay yourselves obscene salaries. Your principals bribe politicians or become politicians themselves, and if you screw up it's us, the general public, who pays. After the crash of 2008 who paid the price? Not the bankers or the financiers. The austerity which followed affected the poorest disproportionally. You don't produce, design or sell anything. You provide no useful services for the general public. Yes, you pay a lot of tax, but even that is arranged so that you pay, through dubious schemes, less than you ought to."

"So you have become a socialist?"

"No. I don't believe in state ownership of everything. I do believe in levelling down as well as levelling up; but the present government is unmatched for incompetence in the 50 years that I have had any interest in politics, and stands as much chance of 'levelling' as I do of swimming the Channel." I had become quite worked up, as you will have detected, but I managed to keep my delivery calmer than I felt.

"What we do is essential to a capitalist world," was Stuart's self-satisfied but rather feeble response.

"I think it best to abandon this line of conversation. We both know we are never going to agree. Tell me about your children. I assume that they live with their mother?"

"Yes, there's an older girl, 13, and a boy of 11. They are now at an independent school in Essex, and my wife lives with her boyfriend nearby. I see them on alternate weekends, and it's quite easy because I have lots of space, and there's plenty to do up here."

I nearly said 'well that's alright then' but instead "Thank you for the supper: it was delicious. I suppose they were closed for ages?".

"Yes, it all got noticeably quiet around here through the lockdown. Quite nice in a way. Shall we wander back over the river then?"

I took this as a rhetorical question, as he was waving the waiter for a bill.

Parts of London look their best after dark, and this was one of them. The sparkle of the lights reflected in the surface of the Thames disguise the murkiness of its waters, and the towers around it have sufficient lights to avoid being dark oppressive shapes. We walked in silence. I hoped he wouldn't try to take my hand.

As we walked I struggled with the next decision I would probably have to make: would I let him fuck me? Pro was the thought that dear Tom had sort of given me a pass; that I still owed Stuart something from a long ago (according to my conscience); and he had done his best to give me a good evening, which deserved more than a slap in the face. Against was the thought that I would be swapping one guilt for another because, despite Tom's pass, it would feel like a disloyalty to him. Added to which Stuart no longer attracted me physically, so it would be a lust-free fuck. Neutral was the fact that my persistent curiosity wanted to know what it would be like.

Further thought suggested that the fact it would be lust-free could make it easier and reduce the guilt quotient. Clutching at plastic straws.

We had got back to the flat. I think I had only drunk one glass of wine with the meal, and I hoped I might get offered a bit more alcohol to fortify my resolve.

"I think we could have a glass of something, don't you?" he asked. "What would you like?"

"If you've got it -- which I am sure you have -- I'd like a single malt scotch with a dash of water."

"Not much of a lady's drink, but yes, can do."

The heavy glass tumbler, a bottle of Tobermory, and a small jug of water appeared in due course. I poured and sipped. Immediately I felt myself relax into the stylish, but slightly uncomfortable armchair.

"I'm sorry I got at you Stuart. Even without the pandemic I feel we are not living in happy times. I'm 60 soon, but I can't draw my state pension for another 7 years, and at the moment I feel as if I will want to withdraw from the world when I get to that point."

"What on earth will you do with yourself then?"

"Live in the countryside, grow things, cook and bake, make love, read a lot and help with some local charities."

"On your own?"

"No, I don't fancy making love to myself for twenty or more years, and I'm not going to be buying a blow-up doll."

"Perhaps that's when I can appear and draw you back into the real world!?"

I didn't answer that one. I rather wanted to keep Tom to myself as long as possible. I smiled my Mona Lisa smile -- enigmatic.

"Will you stay the night Sophie?"

"If you're asking will I go to bed with you, the answer is probably yes. But I can't promise to stay all night."

"Where will you go, if you decide to push off?"

"I have part ownership of a little flat in Bloomsbury. I'll get a taxi up there."

There was a pause. I suppose he was wondering if this was the moment to invite me into his bed. "Tell me about working at Brookes. It must be quite different from the University?"

I had abandoned my job at the University, largely catalysed by Stuart himself, who at that time was going to be around for another year or more. I went to Oxford's other University, called Brookes, where I had been ever since.

"It's been a liberation. I recognise that I am a teacher rather than an academic producing original works. I think I do that job rather well. I have managed to keep a fresh outlook and not be intimidated by pushy, opinionated and highly intelligent students. Mutual respect is vital and difficult to acquire in today's climate of instant reaction and amplified views."

Having written that down it sounds slightly pompous -- the sort of statement my students would have had a go at. No matter, I am who I am. Stuart didn't seem to mind. "Well I'm certainly glad you got out of the 'World's no.1 University' to the sanctuary up Headington Hill. Good move, I thought."

"Oxford Uni for sure didn't need me, and the feeling was mutual."

We nattered on for a while; I poured myself another drink, and felt very calm about what might come next. It turned out to be very mundane. For all his suave charm Stuart still demonstrated a slight deference towards me.

He came over and took both hands and pulled me to my feet and into his arms. He kissed me on the lips but didn't attempt anything with his tongue. I put my arms round him to trap his hands and prevent them wandering. I wanted this to be as low-key as possible.

"Will you come to bed with me?" he asked.

"Show me the way. I need a bathroom first."

We moved towards a passage off the open-plan living area.

"You can use this bathroom," he said, opening the door for me to see. "There is an en-suite bathroom, but I'm afraid it's a bit of a tip. The bedroom is up here." He pointed to the door facing us at the end of the corridor. "See you in a minute."

Chapter 85

"Oh Stuart," I called to his retreating figure. "You'll need to wear a condom."

"Why for God's sake?"

"I don't know where you've been Stuart, do I? If you haven't got one I have."

"Oh o.k. - I've got one."

I went into the bathroom with my shoulder bag, brushed my teeth and put the brush and toothpaste in their container back in the bag. I had a pee and used a soapy flannel to wash my nether regions. Then I took my clothes off and stacked them neatly in reverse order on a chair, pulled a dressing gown off the peg behind the door, put it on and went to the bedroom.

Stuart was lying naked on the bed. Any desire I had for what was to follow began to ebb away. When I had known him before he was scarcely mature. His fair-skinned body was covered with little more than down, as he had apparently been a late developer. Now there was a lot of dark body hair. Worse still both upper arms were covered with tattoos. I didn't want to know what they were -- probably to do with Millwall Football Club.

His semi-erect penis was larger than Tom's and the foreskin was not retracted. I know that the foreskin serves useful functions, but from the selfish point of view I much prefer the look of a circumcised penis.

So you see so far Tom is winning hands down, thankfully.

I joined him on the bed and lay down on my back. He rolled towards me and started squeezing my breasts, then rolling the nipples. They responded obediently. I had told them not to be too churlish. I mentally guessed at what would come next, and I was right: a rough hand started swirling round the clit, and I moved involuntarily.

Next he dug his fingers in my cunt and searched, with only moderate success, for the G-spot. He suddenly remembered the nipples and shuffled up to give them a seeing to with his mouth. I guessed that a bit of cunnilingus would be next on his programme. Right again. The clit got a fair bit of attention, the labia virtually none. I think he got his tongue in my cunt, but I didn't feel anything.

How long before the entry of the gladiator, I wondered. Not for long. He rolled himself over on top of me and tried to get my knees up level with my shoulders and my feet wide apart. No way! "Remember the 19 years Stuart," I laughed. "You'll have to make do with legs flat and spread as wide as possible. It has been quite successful in the past, and restricted access is better than EINTRITT VERBOTEN!"

He was now struggling to get the condom on his fully extended cock. He had obviously not done it for a long time. "Comes from being so big," I said, trying to give some encouragement. It took a bit of time, during which the key player in this saga began to wilt. Success. I was slightly worried that there would not be enough natural lube for him to make a grand entry.

"Have you got some lube Stuart? I'm afraid that post-menopause vaginas are mean with their unguent."

He got out of bed and started rummaging in the drawer of the bedside table. "Ah, I thought I had some." God knows how old it is I thought.

"Great. Give himself a good coating and then we can get to work."

He did as instructed, and I have to say it really felt quite nice. But he was lying on top of me now, and the weight was quite considerable. With an effort I could still breath but I was glad I'd emptied my bladder.

As he came nearer and started to deep kiss me, I suddenly got wind of his cosmetics: the aftershave (strange on a man with stubble?) and the deodorant. The combination was deadly: I think that one must have been based on dried chillies, and the other on smoked paprika. All very manly of course; not a hint of lily-of-the-valley. Suddenly it caught my throat, just a moment before his tongue reached the same area. His tongue made a hasty retreat. My body shook and I nearly shook my visitor down below out of his temporary place of worship.

Soon all was quiet again. I apologised profusely and moved my pelvis to give reassurance to the visitor. At this point I started to think about Tom's imaginings of a conversation between a vagina (Clio) and a welcome penis (the Major), and I wondered what was going on down there at the moment: "Who are you? What are you doing down here, and what have you got that nasty jacket on for?" I did hope that at least she would be polite, but I wasn't confident.

I very nearly burst out laughing, but I controlled myself. I had to get him off me so I heaved him up and extricated myself with "Sorry, but I'm not a reliable weight-bearing structure any more. Try putting it in from behind." I turned my back to him and grasped my buttocks, one with each hand and pulled them away from the cleft to expose what I hoped was a tempting sight. It was, but not quite as I had hoped.

"Do you want me to fuck your arse Sophie?"

"Definitely not."

"Lots of girls seem to like it and I'd be gentle."

"Just get your cock up my cunt and give me a good fucking. Please."

His reply was a frantic grope between my legs and, having located the target, the insertion of said penis in said vagina. I realised that he was probably capable of spinning this out for another hour or two. My own instinct was to bring it to a conclusion as swiftly as possible. I had to get myself to a climax and hope that he followed suit.

I changed my mental tactic. It was obvious from the near-farcical events so far that thinking about the here and now wouldn't work. I started with Greece and the Heraion at Perachora. I imagined myself up to the armpits in the clear Corinthian waters, above me the cerulean blue of a summer sky. I'm lifting my legs, one at a time for Tom to grab. He's supporting me now. I can feel his cock (the Major) nuzzling me, rubbing me with gentle strokes, finding its way in. I'm relaxing my thighs to lower myself onto him so that he is now fully penetrated. I've wanted this for so long: this perfect moment to properly re-engage with my own sexuality. My whole being is filled up with him and with the delight of having found a soul-mate to fuck.

I moved on to remembering lying across a cool marble top, being filled up with a butt plug and Tom's lovely cock. I remembered the tender way he took me to bed, cleaned me up and sat with me as I recovered from the intensity of that orgasm.

And I remembered being spanked, told to 'suck my cock', and gloriously fucked as I knelt leaning on the sofa.

The sensations I was now feeling became the feelings I had then. My wicked mockery of Stuart becomes my joy of another orgasm for my dear Tom. Here it comes...

"I'm ready to come Stuart. I hope that you can come too..."

I felt him tense and increase his tempo. Because we were both lying down there was plenty of scope for a big man to throw himself at the task in hand, and he did, our bodies slapping together in simulation of an applause that was definitely not merited. More by luck than careful control we did both come almost simultaneously. It was a great relief.

After the statutory recovery period (six minutes and thirty seconds) we rose and went to our respective bathrooms. When I returned he was lying, covered, on his back with one hand behind his head.

"Thank you Stuart. You tried awfully hard and I'm sorry that I was such a lousy partner."

"In retrospect it was a silly thing to do. I see now that we all move on, even if we haven't noticed it. We can't put together the pieces from so long ago. Thank you for letting me see all that almost painlessly, and not leaving me wondering 'what if...'"

I leant over and kissed him, on the cheek this time and with more empathy than I had felt since I arrived. "Turn over on your right side and I'll snuggle up to you." I murmured.

I waited about half an hour, until I was sure he was properly asleep, then I slid out and padded across out of the room and down the passage to the bathroom. I dressed and left him a note:

Thank you Stuart for a great evening. I'm sorry that I couldn't help. Sophie X

I had checked on our way back from supper that all the doors could be opened from the inside. I walked out onto the road over the bridge, crossed over to the north bound side and hailed a black cab. On the way back I texted Tom: I'm on my way back to the flat. All is well. Don't worry. Truly your Sophie.

I've been writing this now for about 3 hours, sitting in the second bedroom of the flat, which is actually set up as a mini office, with PC etc. Tom's daughter Jo was in residence and sleeping in the main bedroom, so if I wanted to sleep -- and it was now past 3am.- I would have to sleep on the sofa-bed in the living room. I wondered when the first trains were. A quick search on the PC found that there was a train from Paddington at 5am. The Circle Line was not open until after 6am so I needed to walk to Kings Cross, which would take about 10 minutes, and then get a bus or a cab to Paddington. I had time for a coffee and a bowl of cereal and wash up, to leave a note for Jo, and send a text telling Tom I was on my way and please to look at his emails for my story (as requested). I said that I hoped to be home by 6.30. Now I'm going to send this file by email.

* * * * *

Tom back again. I'd put my 'phone beside the bed, with the volume turned up. I'd had the text from Sophie just before midnight telling me she was on the way back to the flat. I went to bed and slept: not before I had spent some time wondering, but I'd done most of the worrying already so I wasn't tossing and turning for hours. I had Sophie's daughter Tanya for company. She'd come up to Oxford while her wife was visiting her parents, and she was keen to see some friends while she was here. She and I got on extremely well together, and she told me how good the relationship between me and Sophie had been for her mother.

The phone rang in the morning at about 4 o'clock. I answered it and got her message; then I made myself a cup tea and went to look at the email, which you have just read above. It took me about 25 minutes to read and fully assimilate it. At the end I sat back and looked out of the window with tears pouring down my cheek. Of course it was partly sadness to know that she had been with another guy, but mostly it was because the story was so full of her love for me. I thought she had handled the whole thing incredibly well, never losing control of the situation, and she had made me laugh. I had no doubt that she had moved on from her infatuation with Stuart.

I felt a hand on my shoulder: I hadn't noticed Tanya quietly come in.

"Ma told me a bit about what was going on. I hope that you haven't been floored by what you've just read. She sent it to me as well."

"No, I'm fine, but thank you for being here," I replied, putting my hand on hers, that still rested on my shoulder.

"She adores you, but she just wanted to get this episode out of her system. It sounds to me as if she has well and truly done that. But don't be too soft on her. You've already been more indulgent than anyone has a right to expect."

I looked up at her and said "It's great that you two share such trust in each other that she can let you see this," pointing to the screen with email displayed.

"We've always been close. She thinks she's been a lousy mother, but I think she's been good: leaving us alone to get on with our own lives but always being there for us when we needed. Never judgmental, always supportive. What more can you ask of a mother? I know she thinks she's been a naughty girl, but she never let her various affairs affect us. It's a bit of a cliché but she was always looking for something and never quite finding it. Then she thought she'd found it with Stuart but had to give him up.

I think you know now, even if you didn't before, how much you mean to her. I'd guess that you weren't crying for what you'd lost were you?"

"No, it was just the opposite," I admitted.

"Then I think we'd better both get dressed and go and meet her at the station, don't you?"

"Excellent idea." Pause "By the way, did she ask you to come to stay now?" I asked.

"Maybe."

* * * * *

So we dressed, had some fruit and some cereal, and set off for the station to meet the train, scheduled to arrive about five past six.

The train was on time, more or less. At that time it was not crowded, and the number of travellers on public transport had shrunk considerably over the year. Sophie appeared carrying her shoulder bag and started walking towards the exit. It was a moment before she noticed us. Then she broke into a little trot and came and embraced us both.

"Oh how lovely to see you both. Did you get the email and have you read it?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes" I said sternly, "and we were not impressed. It's difficult for us to feel joy at your return -- relief maybe."

She looked at both our faces, which showed nothing: we just stared back.

After a pause Tanya said "You've been a naughty girl again Ma. Tom has decided that you need a good spanking, and I think I shall have to watch, to make up for those times in the past when I've wanted to do it myself."

Sophie's eyes glazed over, and tears started to form. She didn't cry very often, so she was obviously taken aback by the manner of our greeting. I thought I should respond. I moved towards her; she obviously wondered what was coming next. I put my arms round her and kissed her cheek and said quietly "It's good to have you back. Welcome, we both love you as much as ever."

She reached out to Tanya and pulled her into our little huddle. We stayed like it for a few moments, then broke up. "Come on" I urged, "Let's get going. You look in desperate need of sleep, and I feel like breaking the rules by having a stiff scotch. Onward!"

Back in the house in Jericho, Sophie threw off her bag and coat and flung herself on the sofa. I did as I said I would and poured three whiskys.

"Why did you do that to me on the station?" Sophie asked.

I looked at Tanya. She took the cue to reply: "We both love you dearly, and we understand why you did what you did. But you have to admit it was hugely self-indulgent, and although your tale was a relief because it was obvious that your night-of-madness was not going to lead to anything more, you sounded unjustifiably pleased with yourself. You were quite cruel to Stuart who, despite being a bit of a prat, didn't really deserve it. And you might have stopped for a moment to think how you would have felt if Tom had done the same to you. If what you want is an 'open marriage' relationship you'd better sit down with Tom and work out the terms of agreement."

Wow! One could tell that she was a school-teacher.

"I don't, don't, don't want an open-marriage," cried Sophie.

"Very wise. If I wasn't married and Tom was footloose I'd become bi. There'd be high demand for his services, I can tell you," said Tanya.

"I realise now that what I've done has been selfish in every way, but I tried to show in the story how much Tom was with me all the time."

"And how would it have been if Stuart had turned out to be a delightful, thoughtful, slim and sexy 38 year-old, turning his back on a job that he despised as much as you do? Would we have got such full and frank disclosures then?"

There was no reply to that one. I understood why it was asked, and I realised it was unanswerable. Who knows what would have happened?

I thought it was time to step in.

"You know now why we were a bit reserved when we met you. We talked it through on the walk to the station and I suppose we both felt we'd been manipulated. We have forgiven you, and of course we don't want it to leave a permanent scar on our relationships. I'd like you to go to bed and sleep for as long as you need, and when you wake up we'll agree that the subject is now closed."

Sophie had sat with head sunk and gripped by both hands. She looked up and got up. "I'm incredibly lucky to have you. I've been more than naughty girl: I've been a slut and I'm ashamed and sorry." She walked from the room and we heard her climbing the stairs.

I'd been an admirer of Tanya ever since I met her and was amazed at what she had done in the last few minutes. Without anger she had succeeded in making her mother accept responsibility for the effects of doing something just because she could and thought it might be fun, while expecting us to make it possible and even endorse it.

* * * * *

"Were we too harsh do you think?" I asked Tanya. "I don't want to harm her spirit, because it's so much of what I love about her. She's not naturally a thoughtless person, but I think that the time she had with Stuart, thirteen and more years ago, had become a fixation. It needed putting to rest, and I'm glad she's done it."

"I don't think there's any doubt she's done that. For goodness sake don't beat yourself up about your part in it. You behaved beyond reasonable expectation; and I meant what I said about snapping you up if you were on the market!"

We were sitting on the sofa. She got up, came and stood in front of me, held her hands out for mine and pulled me to my feet. "I have a great urge to do something I haven't done for years." She wrapped her arms round me and kissed me on the lips; then she ever-so-gently pushed her tongue into my mouth. I opened my lips but did not let my tongue join in, simply kissing the tongue that had been so generously gifted. There was nothing passionate in this kiss, but I found it extremely moving.

She murmured in my ear "If you ever need somewhere to escape, Mel and I would always be happy to see you, and I bet we'd give you a good time!"

"I don't doubt it. Now let's get ourselves some proper food. I've got a pizza base in the fridge, to which I can add some mozzarella, tomato sauce, anchovies if you like them, and black olives. How would that be with a glass of Valpolicella Ripasso?"

"Sounds great. I'll come and talk to you while you put it together."

We had a very companionable time talking about teaching, and running -- she was a useful middle distance runner -- and the Dulverton house, which she had yet to visit. I had met her wife Mel, but only once and then quite briefly. I couldn't resist a bit of questioning about the dynamics of their marriage. It is an occupational affliction always to want to know how partnerships work.

"We've been together now for six years. It takes time and trust to make partnerships work, and we've found that helping to make it possible for the other one to do their thing is a good bit of practical unselfishness." Tanya did not surprise me. I knew that she would have thought and acted carefully in her relationship.

"That approach is a good way of avoiding 'character assimilation', which is when one or other or both feel they have lost their individuality. When that happens it gives rise to resentment, which is one of the wrecking bars of partnerships." There I go, preaching again.

"I do like the way you work these things out Tom. I may say it's pretty rare in a man."

"And in women too! But at least they have the excuse of reduced brain power due to obstetrics and gynaecology!"

"...while men fail to deal with their machismo," she responded. Pause.

"Were you surprised when I kissed you?"

"No. Should I have been?"

"Well I was. Don't think I'd done it since I was 15 or 16" confessed Tanya.

"If you had been a man it would have surprised me; but if you are a heterosexual man there is nothing surprising about being kissed by a woman. Although in this instance, because I happened to know that you are gay, I was careful not to make it into something that you would find embarrassing."

Chapter 86

"I see what my mother means when she says you can be infuriatingly reasonable."

Our lunch was now ready, and we took it back through to the living room.

"When I was at school doing English Literature 'A level' we had a teacher who was very forthright. One day he took us through the opening scene of 'Antony and Cleopatra' pointing out all the sexual imagery. It was a revelation. In a single speech of a dozen lines he would explain half a dozen sexual references of greater or lesser explicitness. It is, of course, a play about sex, so we shouldn't have been surprised. But it left one feeling that there was not much of the world that didn't relate to sexual matters. Once you become alerted to it -- which most of us don't very often -- you see it everywhere. So when you kissed me it was not for a sexual purpose, but that doesn't mean it was asexual. Does this make sense, or is it gobbledegook?"

"Perfect sense." There was a pause. "Shall we try it again?"

I knew this was her being entirely mischievous.

"No." I said in an 'of course not' sort of a way.

"Why?"

"Because you let me know what you wanted me to know with the one kiss. The only purpose of another kiss would be if one or both of us wanted to achieve arousal of the other. I don't, do you?"

"Probably...yes."

"I thought so, and that's probably another good reason for not doing it. I don't know if your mother has told you about a lady called Eleni in Greece, who was keen on what she called bottom-fucking. She formed an idea that I was perfectly equipped to satisfy her in that way, and did her best to persuade me to enjoy her bottom. We called her 'the minx'. Well I think you might be in danger of being called 'minx2'."

"I'm not trying to get you into bed Tom, really. But I think, perhaps wrongly, that you are safe to play games with; and I love playing games. Did you take her on?"

"No."

"I'm not surprised. A pity though -- it would make a lovely story."

"Perhaps it still will! I'm sure your mother would love to give accommodation to Eleni's husband. The reason Eleni wanted me was because her husband was too big: 'lovely for cunt but not for the other' was how she put it rather succinctly." I felt this conversation had gone on long enough.

"Come on, drink up and go for a walk or something before I impart even more information in the 'too much' category."

"I do love you Tom. Perhaps we could run away together?"

"Sixty year old author runs off with lover's 30 year-old lesbian daughter. Last seen in Honolulu in grass skirts, and both seemed to have grown beards."

"Perfect. I'll book a flight on Monday, straight after Year 8 class. One last question: if I continue with my minxy behaviour will you spank my bottom?"

"Go away. Shoo!"

Tanya got up and ran for the door, giggling.

She came back a short while later. I was reading by then, with a bit of Mozart in the background. He's about the only composer I can have playing while I'm doing something else.

"I'm going to walk along the towpath northwards then cross back over to the Woodstock Road then wend my way back via the parks. Should be about 2 hours, which will give you time to do whatever you're inclined to do. If you are still in bed when I come back I won't disturb. I guess you'd like a bit of sleep?"

"Thank you Tanya. You are a good girl. No spankings."

"Pity. 'Bye."

* * * * *

I stayed reading for a while, and then I heard movement from above -- probably Sophie in the bathroom. I waited a few minutes, made a couple of cups of coffee, then went upstairs. Sophie was in the bedroom. She had no clothes on and was standing looking out of the window at the garden. The site of her naked body was still an enchantment for me. We stood and drank our coffee together. I said quietly "Get back into bed and I'll give you a massage."

The turned and looked at me, smiled, put her hands on my shoulders and rested her head on my chest. Then she lay face down on the bed and threw the pillow aside to lie flat with just her hands under her forehead. It was warm, so I took off my own clothes and found a butt plug, which I put within reach. I poured some of our favourite almond oil on her and began rubbing it into the small of her back, just above the buttocks. I worked upwards to her shoulders, using my thumbs to dig into the muscles around her neck, trying to release some of the tensions. On to the upper arms, smoothing and stroking. Next I went to her feet, and stroked each toe individually, before massaging the whole foot, the ankles and calves. The backs of the knees and the thighs needed special and very gentle attention, my fingers barely touching the flesh. The buttocks needed more effort, squeezing and kneading, until I pulled them apart and began a circular rubbing of the anal sphincter until I felt it relax. I used some of the almond oil to smooth the entry of the butt plug, slowly, very slowly disappearing until it was fully embedded.

"Now I need to spank you: just once on each side but it will hurt, because I have the urge to hit hard. Then I will fuck you."

I brought my right hand down heavily on her right buttock: there was a squeal and before it had died away I had repeated the strike on the left side. The smacks were hard enough to leave a red imprint of my hand. I think she was crying, but I'm not sure, because it was a silent shaking of her shoulders.

I retrieved the pillow she had cast aside, lifted her up by her pelvis, and put the pillow under her. I spread her legs. Despite what she had said to Stuart (the details of that encounter would probably stay with me for ever) Sophie never lacked for natural lubrication, partly because she wore HRT patches. As I put my hand between her legs to clasp the vulva I found it sopping wet. Manoeuvring myself into position to penetrate was quite demanding for a man of my age but I managed it. Once in position I could support myself on my hands, so that Sophie could raise and lower her pelvis. It was probably her favourite position. It felt as if this should be a vigorous fuck, and I set about it with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, while wishing that I was 20 years younger.

"Thank God for your beautiful cock. Thank God for its wonderful owner. Your spectacularly stiff cock is right up inside my dripping wet cunt. Clio is enraptured to be greeting the Major, and I'm sure they are having a really sweet reconciliation. Fuck me darling, forgive me and fuck me now and always. I really am yours."

She lowered herself by pulling out the pillow. Then she put her legs together, inviting me to lie full stretch on her and feel the Major being squeezed. We had been joined for probably five minutes, and I paused. I could get my hands on her back now, up her neck and clasping, rubbing her scalp. When I resumed I had lost the desire for an aggressive fuck: I made love to a cherished body until we came to a quiet but incredibly intense climax, talking to each other so that we could finish together.

I peeled off quite quickly for the sake of my back, but I rolled her on her side and there was just enough rigidity left in the Major for him to resume attendance from behind, and that's where he stayed, long enough for me to fall asleep.

* * * * *

"I seem to remember this happening before, and then it was me that fell asleep first," Sophie was gently detaching herself from me. I looked at a clock. I suppose I must have been asleep for an hour. I do sometimes sleep during the day, but generally it's not more than twenty minutes.

"Sorry. Not much sleep plus high octane stuff since."

"It was lovely to come awake and realise the Major had made himself comfortable inside me. Such a welcome visitor. I know you said that we should agree not to talk about the last twenty-four hours, but I want to say that the couple of whacks you gave me were entirely appropriate -- and they did hurt. But as usual, they were the prelude to a magical fuck."

I rolled her onto her tummy and started to stroke her bottom: it was a loving touch, not erotically intended. She made cat-like purring noises, and seemed to sink ever deeper into the bed.

"You smell a bit," I said, sniffing ostentatiously. "It must be a week since you had a shower."

"Slight exaggeration: but I do feel the need of a bit more than 'a freshen-up'.

"Give me five minutes to do what I need to do in the shower room, and dress, then I'll leave you alone to wash off whatever you feel needs to be sluiced away."

I got myself out of the bed and did what I said I would before leaving her and going downstairs. I had bought some scallops, which are a special treat for both Sophie and Tanya, in one of the several fish shops that Oxford still boasts. I spent a bit of time preparing them, and put them back in the fridge. Cup of tea next, I thought, at which point Tanya re-appeared, so I added an extra mug.

"Hi there minx2. Have a good walk?"

"Yes thanks grandpa but it would probably have been a bit taxing for you at your age."

"I wouldn't have felt safe with you anyway, in some of those lonely places."

She came up behind me and started tickling me. Fortunately I had made the tea, and was about to put it on the low table by the sofa.

At this moment Sophie appeared -- and perhaps just as well. "Hey you two, what's going on? You leave my man alone, daughter dear."

Tanya was quick to respond: "You're sounding very proprietorial all of a sudden Ma. Do you feel the need to do a bit of territory defending?"

It was a happy, comfortable evening. As I had cooked the scallops and the lemon dessert, which were eaten with delight, I was excluded from the kitchen during clearing up, but when that was done we sat down together and, with lots of banter and teasing, we played Rummy and Go Fish card games and drank whisky and generally behaved madly.

We were in bed long before midnight. I felt that the hiccup in our relationship had been negotiated without heavy fallout, much to my relief, so we were able to discuss our next move, now that the lockdown had ended. There seemed a chance that foreign travel would be a possibility, though certain countries still had restrictions in one direction or the other.

"Can we go to the Devon house soon?" I asked.

"Of course. How about Thursday, which will give me time to sort out a few more things here?"

"I could go earlier, but I don't want to go on my own, and I must give Ben a bit of notice."

"So that he can change the bedclothes and put fresh flowers in our room?"

"Exactly. And he could also cook us a welcoming supper of venison."

Ben was not renowned for his housekeeping abilities, so unhappily this was all fantasy.

"There's something I think you should know, darling heart, which Tanya and I discussed while we were in the kitchen."

"Which is?"

"She thinks she's falling in love with you." There was a long pause.

Eventually I answered. "I'm afraid this is not good news, although not entirely unexpected."

"What makes you say that?"

"She was playing around with me while you were asleep. All very light-hearted, but I just had the feeling that the jollity was a bit of an act to obscure something slightly more serious. How do you feel about it? Has it happened before that one of your daughters has fallen for one of their mother's partners?"

"I don't think so. As to what I think about it now -- well, like you, not good news. At least she seems completely committed to Mel. However, I do know that they would like to have children, and that needs male involvement of some kind."

"Do you think Tanny has an idea of keeping it in the family by getting me to become a father again?"

"I fear that might be the case," a worried sounding Sophie replied.

"What a nightmare thought. If indeed that is in her mind she needs to be disabused of it a.s.a.p., doesn't she?"

"Well, we have set ourselves up to allow each of us to make our own decisions."

I sat up in bed, alarmed with the thought that I might be on my own dealing with a rampant quasi-daughter. "Come on Sophie, you can't leave me to sort this one on my own. I promise I have done nothing to encourage her." I told her about the kiss and subsequent discussion.

"If you continue to do nothing to encourage her, and we ensure there is no opportunity for her to get at you, perhaps the best thing is to ignore it. I should warn you though that I was aware that she was bi-sexual. She'll be going back to Faringdon in a day or two, and we'll be off to Devon. It may be several weeks before we see her again."

"This has wrecked any possibility of going to sleep at the moment. I need distracting."

Sophie took the hint and was able to supply the perfect distraction, courtesy of Clio and the Major making complex and melodious music together, which had several movements.

* * * * *

Before Thursday Tanya had left us. We were preparing for our move west. The two days after the unwelcome revelation of Tanya's attachment to me were difficult. I tried to forget about it, but I found it almost impossible to resume the flirty ease with which we used to treat each other. Eventually I had decided that something needed to be said, and I asked Tanny if she would walk with me to the Parks and along the river to make sure that I didn't fall in.

"Yes Grandpa, I'd love to look after you on your afternoon stroll. Do I need to put a harness on you and have you got your walking stick?"

"No harness needed and I promise not to run away. I have my walking stick in case I need to beat you."

We were in the Parks now, wide open green spaces, beautiful mature trees and people exercising.

"Is this to talk about what I told Ma the other day? I knew that of course she would tell you, so I'm not surprised."

"It wasn't welcome news, Tanny, because I think it creates complications for both of us. You are intelligent enough to have worked that out for yourself. I also accept that there's no point in telling you to drop it, because limerence isn't obedient to rational instruction. What I can tell you is that limerence doesn't last, but what we have had to this point can last until I shuffle off to experience those dreams which come."

"What is it that we have?" asked Tanya.

"Affection, amusement, shared attitudes, a desire to look after each other and cherish our friendship. All of these add up to what I call love. They last."

"But I want to make love with you and feel that our bodies belong to each other."

"Yes, I understand, and I'm deeply flattered. It would be a lovely experience I'm sure. But it would disturb too much harmony, create too many possible alienations, and one of the things it would destroy is the fun way we relate at the moment. I really appreciate having that. I don't want to lose it. So I'm just asking you to value it as I do and not risk its destruction, and the collateral damage. Be my best buddy, not my add-on lover. Please."

"Thank you for talking to me. You have almost managed to avoid making it feel like a rejection."

"Thank you for listening to me. And thank you for your support over the last few days. It might help if you thought back over what you said to your mother and ask yourself if it would be consistent to do what you would like to do."

"Fair comment; but then you're always fair. It's one of the things that....I was going to say 'love about you' but I s'pose I shouldn't."

"Of course you should. It's quite safe to love somebody, but often not safe to fuck them."

"Do you like fucking, Tom?"

"I love fucking your mother, if that's what you're asking. I had a bit of a strange early adulthood, rather like Stuart actually, but I wasn't lucky enough to meet the equivalent of Sophie, and so I've always had hang-ups."

"You've found her now and I'm really happy for you both."

I had been holding her hand for some time. Now I turned and took her in my arms for a long, long hug. She really deserved it.

We walked back hand in hand. She wanted to know more about my early experiences. I wanted to know about Mel and their relationship. I asked about their sex life together -- well she'd asked about mine! It sounded pretty good to me, in fact I got quite aroused hearing about it, because she wanted to go into graphic detail. So I heard about types of dildo and other toys; about pegging and other variations; and about how they occasionally had a threesome with a trusted male friend.

"It sounds lovely Tanny, you're a lucky girl. Don't think about risking it by trying to make the good better."

* * * * *

So on Thursday it didn't feel too fraught. I felt that the two grenades which had been thrown into my world in this last week had exploded, but as the dust settled I could see that there was not too much damage. In fact the air had cleared and I could see the horizon more clearly than I had for some time.

We set off for Devon in pretty buoyant mood. We needed to be, because the journey is a pretty tedious one, with large stretches of the less inspiring bits of the M4 and M5 motorways with little alternative. The service stations are crap, and what we sometimes do is come off at Bristol and go to the shopping mall at Cribbs Causeway, which has some reasonable restaurants. This is approximately half way, and Sophie usually drives the first half and then I take over, so I was driving now.

We'd pretty well done to death the events of the last few days, so we talked about Greece, reminiscing with a few laughs, and wondering if we could get back there again soon.

"I wonder if Andreas and Eleni would have the cottage free soon? I think we could stay there for a fortnight and find things to do. There are a lot of historic sites and excavations still to visit, and we can get to Nafplion and Argos and the coasts easily. My term doesn't start until 13th September, and teaching doesn't start until a week later. July and August can be terribly hot there, and possibly crowded, but maybe not this year." This was Sophie, musing over possible delights ahead.

"It's worth exploring. I would love to go back, - and take Eleni up on her offer." She squeezed my knee quite painfully. We had stayed in Eleni's delightful cottage that she and husband Andreas owned in rural Peloponnese.

"Yes, and I sometimes dream of Andreas' legendary cock, really stretching my cunt and hitting the end. Clio would be in heaven.

I wonder how a foursome might work. I have a feeling that such elegant people would want to make something special of it. Perhaps kicking it off with some erotic ballet: naked forms caressing and dancing to culminate in a beautiful fuck, possibly him lying to present his famous cock for her to sinuously lower herself onto. Then she might perform sitting and kneeling gymnastics, all the while having the enjoyment of him inside her, shifting her position to change the phallic angles, raising and lowering herself so that we could enjoy the sight of her cunt being stretched and penetrated."

"Wow! Careful or I shall have to stop at the next service station!" I exclaimed from the driver's seat."

"Then we should have to make our feeble attempt to match their beautiful eroticism. I think we'd have to stick to 'raunchy' rather than 'balletic'. Perhaps start with me in the leap-frog position, and you ploughing the furrow with Clio. I could do a bit of sucking -- the way that you won't entertain, with me on my knees -- and then we could finish with you on the floor and me in reverse cowboy with your slender finger inserted artistically into my rectum. We'd need to get the angles of viewing right, so that they could see what was going on."

"Have you thought all this up as you've been talking?" I asked.

"Not quite: I have given it a bit of thought before."

"Well you've got me aroused. What does it do for you?" I was fascinated.

WWW.

"What's that?"

"Warm, wet and willing."

Chapter 87

"A pity we didn't wait an hour to have this conversation somewhere more appropriate." I remarked, desperately trying to concentrate on the driving. We were on the motorway, and I suddenly realised that I had slowed right down. I was still in the middle lane so I was getting flashed. I speeded up.

"Well, I've been thinking about it. It obviously needs practice, and I thought your garden would be perfect! The only place that overlooks it is Joan's, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"On the contrary," I said, "if she knew it was going on she'd be glued to her upstairs window."

"Exactly, and we could use her as a trial audience. You could call it an Undress Rehearsal."

Sophie took advantage of her position and unzipped her trousers and pulled them down to her knees. Slipping a hand down the front of her knickers she started to masturbate, and there soon began a variety of little sighs, mewing and gasps, followed eventually by a "Oh yeeeeessss!"

We only passed one lorry while this was going on. Fortunately the road was not especially busy, because she was certainly doing it at her leisure. The driver of the one lorry swerved slightly when he looked down and took in what was going on. Sophie just gave him a little wave and a smile -- and continued.

"What you've just done was very unfair," I moaned.

"Yes, I agree, and I'll certainly make it up to you later. If you don't mind though I won't suck you off while you're driving, 'cos I think it's too dangerous." She pulled her trousers back up.

I must say this was a more entertaining way to travel than trying to find interest in the Somerset flatlands south of Bristol. By the time we'd finished contemplating future Greek scenarios we were down to Taunton, and the scenery for the rest of the journey is green and pleasant; open farmland, mainly pasture, then gentle hills with mixed woodland.

* * * * *

I felt an enormous sense of relief and homecoming to be back in the Dulverton house. I had been away more than 4 months, and in that time spring had turned to summer, and the garden desperately needed a lot of work. Over the next week I spent most of a working day in the garden, and Ben and Sophie kindly cooked and prepared meals for us.

Sophie was also busy with commitments to her University, and their attempts to organise a new academic year with all the uncertainties that still hung over what would be happening. There were lots of online conferences and documents to read, as well as the subject reading that she needed to do to keep abreast of current research and thinking, with all the note-taking and revision of lecture notes this gave rise to.

Fortunately I had just finished dealing with an editor's comments on my latest work, which was the ghosted autobiography of a forty-something t.v. 'personality', considered, by someone worthy of paying for. By contrast I was looking forward to my next work, which was a commission for a new biography of an early twentieth century novelist now believed to have been seriously undervalued.

Ben was very busy: The National Park had seen a huge increase in visitor numbers, and unfortunately not all of them respected the park in the way it needs. So a lot of his time was spent clearing up the leftovers of illegal camping and littering.

From this you will see that we were all quite busy, and it wasn't until the weekend that Sophie and I gave ourselves a break. For Ben the weekend was when the rangers could least afford to take time off. There are loads of lovely walks around Dulverton, and we set off to walk to Hawkridge along the Exe Valley Way, largely through woodland and along the river. We were talking about my next project, with Sophie feeding in her perspective on the historic significance of this author on universal suffrage and women's rights. I loved these conversations, not only because they fed into what I was doing in my work, but also her comments were always drawing from the particular character that I was studying to the broader context.

We then fell to talking about our neighbour Joan. The two houses were only a few yards apart, set at different angles, and then there were no other houses that we could see in any direction. We had been neighbours since we bought the house in 1997. Geoff and Joan had already been there for twelve years. We got on well from the start. Their two children were a bit older than ours, but they all got on pretty well, bar the occasional temporary falling out. It was a great place to grow up they all agreed. The town was only a ten minute walk away along footpaths, and there was accessible open space all around.

"So what was your particular relationship to Joan? I've noticed that you seem to have a very relaxed and warm kind of rapport. Is she older than you?" Sophie wanted to know.

"Yes, she is older, but by how much I couldn't tell you. Geoff died two years before Diana, who was already quite poorly herself. The two women had always been close, and during that two years they bonded so firmly that they became virtually indispensable to one another. Diana was a moral and practical support when Geoff died. Then Joan often sat with Diana when she was bedridden. When Diana was dying, and after she died, I was mighty glad to have Joan next door."

"I'm sorry to intrude, but I'd really like to know just how close you are, if you see what I mean," Sophie persisted.

"You're asking if we had a sexual relationship, and for a short while we did, but it was probably not what you'd imagine. To be fair to us both I think I'd better write it down."

"That seems very fair. Particularly following my narrative. Now you can put yourself up for censure!" She was joking, I think, just.

We were in deep woodland at this point, and I suggested that we step into the sylvan gloom a short way to relieve ourselves. I peed against a tree; she crouched down close by. We had never made any attempt to hide ourselves: like little animals we treated it as part of the bonding process, although we never found the need to sniff each other!

When we'd finished and adjusted our clothes I said: "You see that beech tree over there?" pointing to a fine specimen 15 yards away; "I want you to go over to it and wrap your arms round it."

"I didn't know you were a tree hugger darling."

"I'm not, but just now I want you to be one."

She walked over to the tree and did as I had instructed. Her arms stretched a little more than half way round the tree. "Keep your arms there now." I came up behind her and stood just close enough to breathe on her neck, but not touching. "You don't know what's coming next, do you?" I was unfastening my belt and unzipping my trousers, pushing down my underpants and pulling out my cock. I described to her what I was doing. With her arms up in that position she couldn't see. "My cock is getting quite stiff. Yes, the Major is definitely interested. Are you beginning to imagine the feel of him coming into you? Is Clio being a naughty girl and beginning to weep for him? But you don't know: I think I'll just undo you and have a look before I decide what to do next."

I put my hands between her and the tree. It was a simple matter to undo the trousers and pull them down, then her knickers to expose her bottom. She kicked the trousers away. "Take the knickers off too, and hand them to me." It just needed a shaft of sunlight penetrating the trees to complete the picture -- but even without it was a glorious sight.

"I'm still trying to decide what comes next. I've got the Major wrapped in your knickers. He seems to like it. He's quite big now -- big for me anyway. There's a little teardrop on the end of his nose: must be sad that he can't get at his beloved. Still, he loves being caressed by your knickers, and he's looking quite perky now. Of course the bottom in front of me is extremely tempting. And I know that there are little secrets, mostly hidden. I think I'd better find out if it has ceased to be a dry valley. No, don't speak please, I need to find for myself. Before I have a feel I think I'll crouch down and have a look. Open your legs."

I crouched and made a full inspection.

"It looks really nice, all glistening and even a hint of a drip forming. I don't think I need to touch it at all."

I stood up and came very close to her, still not touching. Into her ear I whispered "Of course I might opt for an assault on the tiny ring between the buttocks. It would be lovely and tight for the Major; a bit painful for you perhaps. Hmmm...maybe we'll leave that for another time.

So it's a choice between your knickers and your cunt. I think I'll just play with him for a bit longer then see whether we can fit him in between your legs."

There was a pause for perhaps a minute or two. I was hardly touching myself in fact, but she couldn't see that. "Hmmm, that's really good; ooh yes! Maybe now's the time to put him in you. Don't speak. If you want to have him visit Clio just waggle your bottom."

There was a vigorous bit of bottom-waggling. I grabbed a buttock with each hand and started pummelling and kneading as if I was an angry baker taking it out on his dough. Then I reached round and grabbed a breast in each hand, and gave them a similar treatment.

Fortunately, because Sophie was not a small woman, the geography of our bodies made standing fucking quite easy. I only had to bend my knees very slightly to gain access for the Major: I was pretty sure I wouldn't need extra lube, but just in case I gave him a liberal coating of saliva, and then inserted him vigorously. There was a small gasp. Seemed all ok, and he was certainly sliding well. My thrusts were as fast, hard and deep as I could manage and after about three minutes I was beginning to tire and also sense that orgasm was approaching, so I withdrew.

"Is that enough, or do you want more?" I asked rather unnecessarily for us both. "If you want more stick your bottom out as far as you can." My instruction was duly obeyed, and the sight urged me to re-engage. The final few minutes was quite frantic. I slapped her bottom and almost shouted: "I need you to come. So get your cunt moving in time with the thrusts."

This was asking quite a lot, but she was younger and fitter than me, and duly obliged with such enthusiasm that I was nearly knocked backwards.

"You can speak now. Tell me what's happening."

"You're fucking me with a bone-hard cock that's driving my cunt wild with excitement. Just give me a minute more and I'll cum like you've never been cum on before. I'll be dripping and you'll be sucked dry. Go for it, PLEASE!"

I'm pleased to report success all round. It really was a fuck to remember. Not one to be repeated perhaps, but one to be stored in the memory for when the lonely times come.

"What got into you buddy?" was her question when we got walking again, after extensive cleaning and re-clothing.

"I just thought that I/we needed it. I thought we needed reminding that not only do we love each other, but that we can satisfy more basic needs as well. You reminded me of this when you pleasured yourself in the car the other day."

"You also wanted to assert a little more control, wouldn't you say?"

"Fair comment. I can't let you dominate me all the time. We might both forget who I really am, which is a bit more than just than someone else's add-on."

"Well, I can tell you it was the most exciting fuck since the first spanking. Evidently I need a bit of domination sometimes. Except it doesn't really feel like domination: it's more like 'this is what you need to do to get full satisfaction: trust me'. And I have no difficulty doing it."

The walk back, hand in hand, was quiet and lovely. We talked about Ben and wondered if, at twenty-two, he was at the same stage as Stuart was when Sophie first took him under her wing. "Perhaps you could do the same job for him?" I asked.

"Definitely not. Count me out. Not that I wouldn't get a lot of fun out of it, because I'm sure I would. But I hope that he and I will be friends for many years, and that friendship certainly wouldn't survive the inevitable end of fucking time with Dad's woman. What we need is to find someone around 40 with a bit of experience and an excess of sexual energy. Needs to be someone kind and soft and gentle too."

"In other words quite unlike you were." I said, chancing my arm a bit.

"You don't know. I might have hardened a bit since then. Still got the sexual energy, mind you, 'though not to excess!"

"We should talk to Joan about it and see what she suggests. She knows far more about what's going on round here than I do."

When we got back I asked Sophie if she would mind getting some supper as I felt the need to write down the story of myself and Joan. She agreed willingly. It was about 3pm when I started, and by 7pm I had finished it. I don't usually write at that speed, but I'd more or less written it in my head, and obviously I didn't need to do any research! This is what I wrote:

Diana had ovarian cancer. She had surgery, but it returned, and it reached a point where didn't want to face more chemotherapy simply to prolong a life that had become so much of a painful struggle. She told me, and she told our children. We hated to think of life without her, but all of us accepted her right to choose.

Towards the end she was totally bedridden. I dealt with the consequences for as long as I could, but when she was unable to help turn herself it became a two-person job to keep her comfortable, and I sought professional help. Maybe we are fortunate in our part of the country, but the help I got was almost faultless.

We were in a very rural area, but close to a small town with a good selection of shops and services. One of our neighbours, Joan Coulsden, had been widowed a couple of years earlier, and she was happy to come and sit with Diana while I went into the town to shop or do other business. My need for this wasn't frequent as most of our needs were met by internet shopping.

In return I sometimes went to Joan's to do bits of gardening that she wasn't able to do. I never asked how old she was, but she was certainly a bit older than me. At five foot and not-very-much she was not well equipped for some aspects of care for a very mature garden, full of fine shrubs and small trees. She was grateful for my reasonably knowledgeable input. I usually went when there was a nurse or carer visiting Diana, and if they left before I came back Diana had a one-button call on her mobile, and I was just next door.

I'd been on one of these visits on a sunny June afternoon, and was on the point of departing when Joan found me and watched while I finished a bit of summer pruning.

"It's been really helpful what you have been able to do, and good that I can partly repay your time by sitting with Diana." Joan smiled as she spoke.

"Symbiosis," I said.

"Yes, that's a good way of describing it. There is one other thing I wanted to ask you, though."

"Go ahead," I said, "We've always had an easy relationship, haven't we?"

"That's exactly it. I'm a forthright person, as you know, so I won't beat about the bush: I wondered if you would consider being my 'bit of rough'? I don't want a complicated relationship, but the occasional fuck would be such a bonus to my life, particularly outdoors and in a gardener-and-lady relationship. I know that you are a talented actor, and I have a Lady Chatterley fantasy waiting to be fulfilled."

I was taken aback. Understatement. It wasn't that I found her unattractive -- on the contrary. It's just not quite the proposition anyone could expect! I played for time.

"This probably sounds weird but I want to talk to Diana first. At this time of her life I just couldn't bear to have secrets from her. But I'm flattered, and also quite excited at the prospect of having an aristocratic fuck-buddy. And seeing parts of you I never dreamt of seeing!"

She roared with laughter. "That's great, and the feelings are mutual. I quite understand about talking to Diana. She has the veto. I wouldn't have liked to keep a secret from her myself. If you become my fucking gardener Diana and I can exchange views about you behind your back. Ooh, it does sound thrilling that I might be getting a fuck-buddy!"

I went back and found that Diana was not in a fit state to discuss anything. She had been in a lot of pain, and I had left her with the nurse who was about to administer Oramorph, the effects of which were now obvious. The nurse left after giving me further instructions.

The next day was much better, and by mid-morning Diana seemed in as good a state as was likely for our discussion.

"How was your visit to Joan's?" Diana asked.

"Pretty good. She seems grateful, and it's good to have a means of repaying her for her help." I said.

"Does she want anything else doing?"

There was something about the way the question had been put that made me slightly wary.

"No, she seemed quite content." I was teasing.

"Not what she told me. She was talking about things that she had been missing since Geoff died, and what she could do about it. I made some suggestions."

"Pimping for me were you?" I laughed and took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "So you rather expected her to ask me to be her Mellors?"

"Well, not exactly; she put her own fantasy details on the suggestion. It's strange, but I've become quite prurient lying here, and thinking about the two of you enjoying a bit of rumpy-pumpy over the wall in the next door garden would have quite turned me on if I had anything left worth turning on. In fact I don't think I would mind you doing it with her right here in the room while I watched."

"Not on the menu I'm afraid," I said, wary of how this conversation would end.

"Hmm, pity."

"So you don't really mind me accepting Joan's tentative request to be her bit of rough?"

"I think it's a lovely idea for you both. You are seriously good people, both of you, and experienced enough not to let it go beyond a bit of mutual enjoyment. I will try to keep any hint of it from the children. Bless you."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"I've known Joan for many years, and we have shared a lot; she was a fantastic support during the time that I thought I might lose you. And she said I was a great help when she fell for someone that Geoff hated, and Geoff was going to walk out on her. So I love the idea that you and she will share some well-deserved fun -- 'cos that's what it should be: fun!"

* * * * **

It was another ten days before I found myself in Joan's garden again. I'd sent her a text 'seems you've already discussed matters in your coven let me know when services required.' I got a reply indicating that the removal of some suckers around a lime tree would be a great help and suggesting a date.

I had been working for an hour when Madam appeared. I noticed that she was wearing a dress which stopped above the knee, and not the usual denim jeans.

"Good afternoon Carpenter. Nice to see you, and thanks for tackling those suckers. It looks like a good job."

"Thank you Ma'am. They'm a roight noosance, them suckers. They'm fuckers, them suckers." I did a dirty laugh.

"Really Carpenter, do mind your language."

"Sorry Ma'am. But 'tis only referring to what birds and bees get up to, arter'all. I 'spec you done it a few times 'nall." More dirty laughter.

"Carpenter, I have an itch at the bottom of my back; can you rub it for me?"

Rather than continue with this awful yokel language I simply walked up to her and started to rub her back just above the buttocks.

Chapter 88

"I think it would be better if you gave me a good scratch on the skin. You'll need to lift my dress and get in underneath."

I slid the thin fabric up and over her bottom. I just controlled my instinct to gasp at the beauty of what I saw. It may have been a sixty plus bottom, but I'd seldom seen a better one. Not that I had seen that many, but it was smooth and creamy, and rounded in all the right ways. I started scratching where I had been rubbing.

"That's really good Carpenter, but the itch seems to have moved a bit lower down. In fact the whole of my bottom is really in need of a good massage...

Now can you pay some attention to the cleft in the middle... That's good, that's very good Carpenter. I can feel that you know what you're doing."

"Lots of experience Ma'am. Always 'appy to 'elp." I knew what I wanted to do next, but I decided to await instruction.

"Oh dear Carpenter: it seems as if the problem with this itch might actually be inside me. Do you think you could help?"

"Oh yes Ma'am. Oi 'ave jist the tool fer that job."

"Perhaps you'd get to work then Carpenter. But take your time, there's no rush."

"Need to grease me tools first Ma'am. Can't do a proper job without lubricatin' the tools. You want a proper job, don't yer Ma'am? An 'andsome rump like your'n deserves a proper job."

So saying I dropped a hand between her legs and found the deliciously 'greased' folds and the little guardian at the top, which I gave a swirling 'good-day' to, before dropping a bit and pushing in to take my covering of 'grease'.

"You'm got lovely greasing-up down there. I'll just get myself a bit to grease up the tool, then I'll pop 'im in. He's lookin' pretty sharp, and oi 'spec he'll find where the problem is. Probly roight up the top of the passage d'you think Ma'am?"

"Oh yes, Carpenter, right up near the top. Just put the tool in quickly and let it have a good rummage around to see where the problem is."

On the way to obeying instructions I paused to allow my cock to explore the entrance and its guardian. Before she could issue further instructions I said "'tis offen the case that these itches need more'n one loin of 'tack. Oi'll fiddle something up yer other 'ole, ter see if that's an 'elp."

"I'm sure it will be Carpenter. It's really an extremely good idea. Can you do it. NOW?"

I obliged, by gently pushing a finger, lubricated by ostentatiously spitting on it, through the anal sphincter. We now seemed to be all 'tooled up' and ready to go.

It was a good ride, and quite a long one. I'd manoeuvred her to a tree to give support while I banged away, and I had lots of scope to penetrate from multiple directions. Instinct told me at one point that I had hit the G-spot, and I tried to memorise it so that I could keep returning to it. Madam was keeping up the role play by restraining her utterances. But at one point she did murmur: "I say Carpenter, you are really rather good at this. Can your tools work their magic whenever I get an itch?"

"Well Ma'am oi can't promise every time. But oi'll do moi best. You's got a foin cunt and butt and they wants proper lookin' after."

I continued fucking while this 'conversation' went on.

"Oi thinks oi'll 'ave to finish soon Ma'am. OI've got t'end of the tunnel and oi'll soon get the tool ter squirt some WO60 up yer. That should sort it."

I quickened the pace and increased the penetration so she would know it was about to happen. When it did we both shouted out loud enough to be heard in the next door garden. I hoped that the role play would end there.

It did. I pulled out and she dropped her skirt, grabbing the bottom to pull it up between her legs to catch the drips. I pulled out a handkerchief and wiped my cock. We sat down on the ground under the apple tree.

We looked at each other. "Marvellous. Bloody, fucking marvellous. Fantasy satisfied, cunt satisfied, Joan satisfied. Well done Carpenter!" I grinned back at her.

"Sorry about the ham dialect," I said. "It was not exactly authentic."

"Didn't matter a bit. It meant you could say things I think you might have struggled to say in your own voice! I was really pleased to hear that I've '...got a foin cunt and butt and they wants proper lookin' after.' That sounds very promising to me."

"Forgive me for saying this Diana, but though it was a really great fuck I think that doing it too regularly or frequently would spoil it. No doubt Diana will want a full account, and I don't want to be doing that three times a week if you see what I mean." I hoped I wasn't being too much of a damp blanket or a wet squib, neither of which sound at all nice.

"I quite understand and I agree. But I really want to think that we can do it again sometime. We can stay outside, but perhaps we can engineer some way of seeing a bit more of our respective bodies. I'll think about how to arrange it."

We gathered ourselves together, exchanged our first ever sexy kiss, and I left.

Yes, we did do it again a few more times, and yes, it was great fun. She loved sitting on me, and she loved the doggy position, but we always came back to her standing, supported by the tree, and being taken by 'Carpenter' from behind, especially if I happened to spot a fly or two on her buttocks, which required swatting with a hefty swipe. But then events closed in on us. Diana died. I was devastated, but it would be a brave man to claim that Joan suffered much less.

After the death Joan and I got closer in one way, but the sex totally lost its appeal. Instead we used to sit in each other's armchairs and drink a glass of whisky, and have conversations about our lives and loves, our prejudices and addictions and other 'stuff'. Other times we would walk together, frequently in the companionable silence that walking makes possible.

Joan went off to Australia to see her daughter, son-in-law and grand-children and stayed until the end of the year. I continued to look after her garden and when she returned we resumed our comfortable friendship.

* * * * *

When it was completed I found Sophie, who was finishing preparing the supper. I'd printed the story for reading, so I waved it at Sophie and said "I'll put this in the living room so that you can read it later at your leisure."

"I just can't wait -- as 90% of the population seems to say that about three times a minute. I'd better hurry up and get this superb omelette cooked. There are potatoes frying in the other pan. Can you keep an eye on them to make sure they don't cremate?"

We completed this technically challenging culinary feat without mishap and sat down to eat.

"You've been writing about a sad time I guess? I hope that it hasn't sent you into a steep decline." Sophie, as usual, was demonstrating her talent for empathy,

"It could have been, but the three of us - Diana, Joan and me - were extremely close at that time. There's comfort in remembering that, and also Diana's cheerful fortitude, still a bit mischievous to the end."

"I would love to have met her; except that I know I wouldn't have wanted to steal you from her, and that would have been my great loss."

We finished our supper, and I said that I would clear up and make coffee while she read the story I'd just written.

She had finished reading it when I took the coffee through.

"Well I didn't really know whether to laugh or cry, so I did both. It's bloody funny: I especially liked the idea of greasing up his tool, and sorting the problem with more than one line of attack. The story it tells is sad and uplifting, because it shows how human beings can enrich each other's lives in good times and bad. Do you mind me asking if that was the end of Carpenter and the Lady?"

"It wasn't quite. One evening just before I set off for Greece, we were sitting quietly with our whisky glasses when she got up and came and took my hand. "Come with me," she said quietly. "I want to show you something." She took me upstairs and into her bedroom and then started to unbutton my shirt, then pull my tee-shirt off over my head. I felt as if time had gone back 55 years, and my mother was getting me ready for bed. Next she started to take off her dress, "Come on, I need some help." So I returned the favour, and unzipped the dress at the back and slid it off her shoulders so that she could step out of it. She wore nothing underneath, and I was now seeing much more of her body than I had ever managed during our garden escapades. She was certainly showing me something!

She made a great thing of removing my trousers and underpants: you'd have thought that she was a conservationist uncovering a priceless treasure. Fortunately she remembered to take off my socks before uncovering too much -- a naked man with socks on looks ridiculous - but quite soon I was as stark naked as she was.

"There we are. We always promised ourselves we would see more of each other's bodies." There was a broad smile on her face, "and I'm liking what I see."

"I'm confirming expectations: having seen more of you than you saw of me I always knew I wouldn't be disappointed if I ever got a chance to see the rest. I don't know how old you are Joan, but it is irrelevant, because you are beautiful." My response was truthful.

"Come on, let's make love properly. I'm certain that we could have a lovely relationship Tom but it wouldn't be right. It's much better that we both move on and I hope the Greek trip will be the catalyst for your new journey. I wanted this to be a special send-off and thank you."

I took little Joan in my arms. She made me feel so big. And protective!

We made love very quietly, and for a long time we just lay joined together enjoying the comfort of warm, soft flesh, missing in our lives for so long. As I remember it there was a climax, but it hardly registered physically, and it had a strange out-of-body feel, as if I was watching us: watching two small white clouds float together and merge.

I still consider Joan to be my closest friend."

Sophie sat and looked at me, tears streaming down her face.

"I sort of knew that there would have been proper closure. It is not a relationship that could be left to end like fallen autumn leaves. Clouds is much better."