I laid on my back, on my bed, running my feet up the headboard pushing them higher up ... My arse lifted slightly, so I could get a better view of between my legs.

I was in my black fishnet tights, the crotchless ones that looked like stockings and suspenders. I giggled to myself as I looked down at my pink swollen pussy that seconds before had been pumped full of cum.

I didn’t dash to the shower. I loved these moments, when my lover had left, and I was all alone in the house, free to just carry on the pleasure in my own filthy way.

The window was slightly open, a fresh spring breeze wafting in, gently wrapping itself around my naked body.

My hand reached down between my legs and I held my pussy, gently stroking my lips with one finger, as though administering a healing touch. I looked to the floor to see my large rabbit, poking out from a black silk basque, a sexy warren, a deep hole...

Just then I heard the front door slam shut. My bedroom was at the front of the house, the front door directly beneath. My lover was gone. “He took a while to go,” I thought, wondering why he had hung about downstairs.

“Don’t forget to come by and fuck me again soon!” I shouted up to the ceiling. I giggled to myself, wondering if anyone else was outside, but that was the beauty of a large front garden - a beautiful view and privacy from the house across the road.

I waited another moment, listening for his car engine to start. Birds chirruped.

Just then I heard a key turn in the front door.  It banged shut. Keys jangled. I was confused.

Then it dawned on me. “Fuck!” I whispered to myself. “That must be John!”

John was my landlord. I rented a small room in his large house that he lived in alone since divorcing from his wife. I had a bargain rate on the box room, and he had a reliable and tidy house-sitter. I was also a bit of company when we’d meet in the kitchen or on the landing and he fancied a chat. It was win-win for both of us.

John was 20 years older than me. He worked abroad a lot, and on nights too, which was great for me because when he was away, I would play…

My brain raced. Did John hear what I just yelled? My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

My playful mood drained away. “Shit! I haven’t cleaned up last night’s mess!”   

I recalled the dishes that were still everywhere. Pans and empty packets. Empty bottles of wine. I was having way too fun after dinner to bother filling the dishwasher - the only thing getting hot and steamy at 3am was me.

And now John was back and he hated a mess and, worse still, he hated the dishwasher going during the day. Apparently it was more expensive.

And he didn’t really like me treating the place like it was my own, other than for my bedroom.

“I’d better go down and just start cleaning,” I thought miserably.

I was still naked except for the fishnets. My knickers were god knows where - the last time I had them was when I was stuffing them in my lover’s mouth, half jokingly, half to stop him moaning loudly as I rode him hard.

From the bed I looked at my clothes all strewn about on the floor. Other sex toys were there, ready to go, coated with juices from the hours before.

I swung my legs round and sprung up, searched about. Pulled out a work skirt - a knee-length tight pencil one. “That’ll do - quick to put on over the tights and it won’t look THAT odd,” I thought.

Next thing that came to hand was a tight, light blue fluffy sweater… that’ll do again! These were my office clothes. It was Sunday. It was a warm day. Oh well.

Clothes on, I opened the door a crack: “John?!” I shouted down the stairs.

Nothing.

“John? Is that you?”

Nothing still, but I heard a lid of a wheely bin slam. Shit! That usually meant he was pissed off AND getting rid of my mess.

John and I had a straightforward relationship and arrangement. We were landlord and tenant living in the same house, a family home. But it was his house and he was proud of it. He wasn’t frightened of reprimanding me sharply when I got a bit slovenly in our shared spaces.

As I stood behind the bedroom door, straining to hear if anyone was there, cum dribbled out of my pussy, down my thigh.

I was really wet.

It gave me a thrill.

Memories of a few hours before flooded my mind when my lover was taking me from behind, pushing me up against the bedhead, plunging his cock hard and deep inside me, over and over… No wonder I was so wet. My pussy twitched a little.

Now wasn’t the time for that!

Although I was always comfortable in John’s company I had an inkling he fancied me. I knew it was an odd set-up, me and him, both single, living in a house together.

He never went there though and neither did I. Perhaps because he was nearly twice my age or recently divorced. Or maybe because I was very good at keeping a professional distance between us, albeit an easy and fun one.

He had tested the waters at times, with some teasing jokes, and making it clear he enjoyed sex, and with younger women. I always threw it off casually, with indifference and a bit of humour.

“Get a grip,” I told myself. “Just get down there and sort the fucking kitchen!”

I opened my bedroom door. I looked at my netted toes and ankles. He’s not been upstairs and it’s very quiet downstairs. Maybe I imagined it. After all, I was just basking in the haze of a messy orgasm.

I headed down the stairs and turned into the kitchen. No sign of life there. Everything still where it was.

I must have imagined it!

“Right. Time to get all this sorted!” I said under my breath. I went to the sink and leaned over to grab a bottle of washing-up liquid from the window sill in front.

The view out was of the drive and the blossoming cherry trees. Climbing roses framed the window. I loved living here - it was a grand old house, and at times I pretended it was mine. It seemed to impress my lovers too. Some of them joked I was their bit of posh.

I turned on the tap and filled the washing up bowl. Squirted in the detergent, giggling about how much I’d made him cum last night, in almost the same way. A hard squeeze, a quick pump. But there was more…

I’d put my mouth around him and took him right to the back of my throat, moving my head up and down, slow at first and then building, as I wrapped my fingers tight around the base of his cock, my mouth still on him, and edged his legs apart with my knees. With him totally under my control, I could reach with my other hand and slide a finger into his arse. It was the first time I realised I wasn’t the only one partial to a bit of anal.

I pushed my finger deeper inside him and as I moved my mouth up and down faster and faster on his shaft, I massaged the inside of his arse hard, pulling my finger forward towards his cock, finding a spot that seemed to drive into a cum-frenzy. His arse had orgasmed on my finger - something I’d never felt in a man before, but something I knew I wanted to feel again soon.

I picked up a dish and sponge and smiled down at the bubbles in the bowl.

I loved making him cum hard in my mouth. I loved swallowing it all back, feeling it coat the sides of my throat, tasting him. That moment of control where he is entirely in my hands. And mouth.

It was delicious.

“Afternoon, M!!”

“Fuck!”

I jumped right out of my skin, dropping the plate in the suds.

“You didn’t know I was home?” asked John.

I couldn’t work out whether he was interested in an answer, or already knew it.

Was it already the afternoon?

I took a deep breath and regained my composure. “No, I didn’t! You frightened the bloody life out of me!”

It was then that I noticed his car in the drive. Why didn’t I notice before now?!

He was standing on the other side of the kitchen, but directly behind me where he always dropped his keys. He picked up the post I’d put on the counter. I heard him open a letter with a knife that I must have left on the side. The paper tore across. I picked up another plate and carried on with the washing up. The hot water made my arms red.

My chest was flushed too. It was my bloody sex flush! It crept up my neck. Talk about inconvenient timing. I didn’t turn round, just carried on.

“Did you have a good trip?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, it was work,” he replied wearily.

Silence.

“Yep,” I said. “Well, you’ve not missed much here, John. No gossip, no crises, all quiet.”

I could sense John was stood with his back against the counter, looking at me. But with my back to him, I couldn’t be sure. I suddenly became self-conscious, remembering the choice of work clothes on the weekend, and the fishnets.

The no knickers!!

This time my chest and cheeks flushed deep, not with desire, but sheer embarrassment.

Say something. Anything!

He opened another letter. Took it out of the envelope. I could hear the paper unfolding. Then nothing. He was unusually quiet.

“I’m sorry about the mess, John. Just didn’t get round to it last night. Was knackered and went to bed.”

What a lie! I was fucking all night, in every position imaginable.

I could feel his eyes on me. I picked up a wine glass, half full. It was next to another. I tipped the red liquid down the side of the bowl. It was obvious by the mess that I’d had company.

Say something then!

Was he really THAT pissed off?!

“Are you sure nothing happened while I was away?” He emphasised the words sure and nothing, chuckled throatily, indicating it wasn’t a serious question.

I didn’t know what to say so just shrugged my shoulders. This was weird. I ran some more hot water into the bowl.

“You know, M?” he went on. He called me M, I found it a bit too familiar.

“Yeh?” I replied lightly, in the hope that he’d get the message that I wasn’t particularly interested.

“Y’know, I can always tell when a woman is in stockings. No matter what she’s wearing over them.”

I gripped the sponge hard and squeezed out the soap and water, listening to it trickle into the bubbles and the steamy water below.

What the fuck!? I was slightly amused, and surprised.

“I can always tell.” His tone was upbeat, excited, even. He wasn’t pissed off, he was gleeful.

And his eyes were definitely on me now.

I knew my arse looked good in this skirt, it was the part of my body that always got attention. It’s round and full, and I love it when it’s exposed to the air. I love it even more when it’s getting fucked.

Subconsciously, I pushed it out a little, towards him. Had he noticed? I felt sure he was looking at it intently.

Another letter opened… yet I still felt his eyes on me, looking me up and down, resting on my legs and bum.

I leant right over the sink to grab a dishcloth. Why? Was I wanting him to look? I didn’t need the dishcloth!

“Just bills and… plenty of junk,” he huffed.

A thought crossed my mind and I instantly tried to push it out of my head…

Could I have a second cock deep inside me today?

I coughed and looked up, out of the window. Reaching to the side for a spoon, I felt him move towards me. Right towards me, not the fridge as was his custom, not the kettle. Me. At the sink. Was he going to help? The tea towel was to the side of me. He didn’t pick it up.

Surely this can’t be happening?!

He was nearly old enough to be my dad!

He did a little cough too, as if to let me know he was closer. I carried on washing up, casually, as if nothing was happening.

But it was happening!

My pussy was yearning, begging to feel another hard, thick cock inside me. It was insatiable today!

I couldn’t control my thoughts and I felt sure he could hear every one of read them. My nipples hardened under my jumper. No bra either. I couldn’t have been more exposed.

The sky outside darkened, big rain clouds had gathered, and drops of rain started to spatter on the pane. I could see our reflections, our outlines. He was close.

“Yes, I can tell,” he said softly.

I felt his breath on my neck as he slipped both hands either side of my waist, and then ran them slowly down to my hips. His grip was firm. His large palms rested just above the round of my arse.

“Thanks for washing up,” he said simply. “I should have grabbed the tea towel and helped. But I got… distracted.”

He was slightly stooped over me now. He was six foot, strong for an older guy. I was a petite 5 foot 1 without my shoes.

Conflicting emotions filled my mind: what was he going to do? Should I stop him? I need to say something!

My pussy continued to throb, a little more cum leaked out, and I could feel the stickiness of my thighs. Was it my lover’s cum? Or was it mine?!

John’s hands moved further down my hips, over the outside of my thighs and then inwards to feel the shape of my butt cheeks. He massaged them for a moment. I could tell he was getting excited. And that excited me. I imagined his hardening cock was now straining against his underwear.

The pace of my washing up slowed right down as his strong hands moved down under my butt cheeks. He pressed his thumbs into the top of my thighs as if to take a reading and moved them round to between my legs.

It was as if he wanted to prove to himself that I was indeed wearing stockings. I wasn’t, not exactly anyway. But my cunt was exposed other than for the skirt.

As if reading my mind, his hands slid all the way down to the hem of the fabric, which fell just below my knees. He bent down and pushed his head in the small of my back, pushing me harder against the sink. I was so turned on I knew for sure that my own juices were making me wet. My pussy, already swollen, cried out. My cunt was begging to be filled again!

John slowly lifted my skirt up to reveal my crotchless suspender fishnets. My plump arse was on full display now. He still had his hands either side of my hips. He wasn’t letting go.

He straightened his arms and leant back as if to take a better look at me. I started to breathe more heavily, sweat beaded under my armpits, my breasts hanging over the bubbles were hot. He groaned. I knew he liked what he saw, and I knew he wanted it.

I wanted him to have it too.

I bent further over the sink, to reveal myself even more. I felt cool air on my glistening pussy.

I just wanted him now.

John took his hands off my hips. A belt unbuckled, a zip lowered. I was almost panting.

The rain came down harder outside, and I could see us both clearer as the skies turned black and the kitchen light shone bright behind us. He stood to one side, he could see I was looking at our reflection.

He was naked from the waist down and I could just about see the glory of his rod. It looked big. It looked ready for action. As he moved back over to me, it bounced up and down a little. Then, directly behind me, he pressed it against the small of my back, the full length of it hard into my spine.

Then he grabbed my hips again, lifting me up, onto tiptoe. My skirt was bunched around my waist, and he used it for purchase. I tiptoed still, rooted to the spot.

With his right knee and leg, he pushed my legs further apart. And I pushed myself up onto the edge of the sink some more. He was looking straight ahead, at my face looking back of both of us. The rain drops concealed our true expressions.

I heard him suck his fingers. He then ran them down from the bottom of my spine to my tight hole. Did he know how wet I was already? Did he know I’d just been fucked - in his house - by some stranger, another man, in his castle? A shimmer of naughty shame swept through me.

With that, he slid his fingers into my cunt, rubbed my juices around and out onto my lips. Then he moved them up to my arse. He eased two fingers into my tight hole, just a little. Did he know he was plunging another man’s cum into my arse?

Being extra wet seemed to send him into a frenzy. He breathed harder, faster. He finger fucked my tight arse harder and I leant into it, letting myself go, feeling my arse inviting him, getting wetter, wider.

As I let out a loud moan, he buried his head into my neck. “You’re so fucking wet, M”, he appreciatively.

With his other hand he started to stroke himself against me, and he was staring at the pair of us hard in the glass pane.

He took his fingers out of my arse and gripped my left arse cheek, and started to knead it slowly as if it would stop himself from cumming. He was taking deep breaths. He continued to wank against my back, rubbing his helmet up and down between my arse cheeks.

Then he used his fingers once more to explore my pussy, more cum, more juices, smeared them all around, pushing more back into my arse. He said nothing.

“Fuck me, John!”

I couldn’t take it any more. I wanted to feel his cock pound rapidly inside me, while I rubbed my clit at an equal pace. But my hands remained in the bowl. I needed to feel him shoot his load deep into me. He knew I was desperate for it.

“Patience,” he whispered.

With that I pushed my arse back onto his cock. He’d now made the way easy enough.

He had no patience either and gripped himself tight. I felt his helmet against my arsehole, felt as he guided and eased into me. I let out a little yelp, as his smooth, shiny helmet pushed my hole further apart. His knees were bent, his stance steady, he pinned me with his weight and strength. And held me in place with his whole 8 inches.

It was the first time I understood how big he was. I felt a wave of panic. It was by far the biggest I’d ever had in my arse, maybe anywhere. I took in a sharp breath as he eased himself in some more. I could feel his helmet deep in me, bringing all my nerve endings alive.

I ran the sponge over another plate… slowly, firmly. Focusing on relaxing. Focusing on the sensations as pain overlapped pleasure. My hand moved over the fine white porcelain, it was smooth, fine, round, not unlike my butt which was now fully relaxed, but pinned, as he moved in deeper still, till I could feel his balls against my pussy.

The whole of his hard cock throbbed in me now. I breathed out, relaxing my arse even more. With that, he started to pull back slowly and I felt every part of his thick shaft as it moved. I tried to grip the sides of the bowl, the sink, anything to steady myself as he continued to pull back long and slow.

Indicating I was hungry for it, I pushed back to take him fully in again. He took the hint and started to fuck me fast, groaning at the tightness of my arse that was clenching every sinew, every centimetre of his cock.

He took hold of my hips, and lifted me some more, bent me further over. I couldn’t move, was going nowhere. Deeper thrusts, a groan with every one, his head pressed against mine.

My tits dipped into the bowl, water seeped into my jumper, my nipples tingled. He pushed his hand against the small of my back as he pulled out again, and we loudly groaned together. I could tell from the reflection, he was watching his wet cum-soaked cock slide in and out, watched himself fuck my arse, admiring his rock-hard rod.

And I watched him watching it, totally giving over to the moment as my tight wet hole was feeling sensations deeper than it had ever done before. In the reflection he looked up, looked deep into my eyes as he pulled out slowly again and held himself just so he stayed inside me, still.

We were looking at each other, breathing hard. I wanted out of this hot jumper, to let my tits swing, but his hand was already up under it, squeezing my breasts up and together, as if to gain more purchase on my body for his next thrust.

“Ahhhh!” I let out a loud groan. My arse contracted around his cock as he started to fuck hard and fast again. I wondered if I might faint.

Now my pussy was starting to ache for it too, soaking his tightening balls with every inward thrust. A cocktail of juices filled the air with a scent, filled it with dirty, desperate fucking. I wanted him to fuck my every hole, hard, fast, slow, long. But for now it was my arse’s turn to get a good pounding.

“Fill me hard with your cum!” I ordered him. “Fuck my arse really fucking deep!”

I let out another groan, as did he.

With that he slammed in one more time, pushing me painfully up against the sink. I felt his cock unload and as he did, my pussy and arse clenched hard, gripping him tighter, making him shoot even more hot cum.

My arse pulsated again, as if squeezing out of him every last drop. I could feel his hot cum in my butt, in a way I never felt it in my pussy. Every nerve ending was on fire. My knees shook.

We both rested there for a while, hardly able to stand. He started to soften inside me as yet more cum soaked my thighs, his balls, my fishnets.

A smile crept across my face. Two cocks, three holes, one day. And a lot of jizz.

I could get used to this.

“That was a naughty smile,” he said. It was then that I realised he was still looking at my reflection.

“I’ve never had two men in one day before,” I confessed, surprising myself.

“I knew as much,” he replied. “Just as I knew you were wearing stockings. I thought it was about time we did something about it.”

More breezily, he added: “I could smell the sex the minute I walked in the front door… And when your boyfriend and I crossed paths. He looked… spent.”

His cock still inside me, I could feel him stiffen. He added: “That’s what happens when you don’t do the dishes…”

With his lips even closer to my ear, he then whispered:

“And this is what happens for being a dirty cum slut in crotchless fishnets.”

He pulled his semi out of me and hot cum ran down towards my pussy, between my legs, soaking them even more. My pussy tightened again, I breathed in sharply. The sex flush on my chest deepened again, my face turned crimson.

With that, John bent down and kissed me gently on both bum cheeks. Then he passed me a tea towel, grabbed his clothes and strode out of the kitchen.

Another smile crept across my face. I pulled down my skirt, emptied the washing up bowl, and, as I watched the last of the tepid water getting sucked fast down the hole, I felt another wave of pleasure course through my body.

“This doesn’t have to end here”, I thought to myself, remembering my messy bedroom floor… And John just across the landing.