Written by WombatCutie

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8 Jul 2016


When I began writing part 1 of this tale, I intended only to tell a basic story of what happened between me and Mandy and Tom all those years ago. In the writing of it, it has morphed into something it never really was. Someone said it was like a love story. Yes, I have embellished unashamedly. Perhaps I have used it as a vehicle to express the dreams, wishes and desires I have as an older woman.

My writing has surprised me at times and I wonder where the words come from. The only thing I have ever write are reports at work. I do read a lot of trashy romance, though. Some of you might find it all a little over-ripe. But I’ve promised those of you who have been kind enough to comment on the previous parts that I’d finish it when I got back from my holiday.

I always find the early part of any sexual encounter (when happening or written about) far more exciting then the actual consummation. You know, that first meeting of eyes, the understanding of what each other will allow. That first kiss while your lover is busy with his hands inside your panties.

I love those first moments.

Often a man proves to be so much less than anticipated! (The man I’ve called Tom wasn’t).

Anyway, here is the conclusion. Hope it doesn't disappoint.

My next post will be about a little something that happened to me on holiday. It will seem so mundane after this, though.

*********************

(Continuing part 2)

That second orgasm frightened me. It just went on and on. My body jerked and twisted and they had to support me where I stood, even as they continued to please me. While I shivered and gasped he remained kneeling behind me, his tongue skimming lightly between my buttock cheeks. Mandy on her knees, still fully dressed, flickering her tongue all about my cunt, her arms stretching high for my nipples. She and he took my and I was overwhelmed with their opulent attention.

And when it happened, when those the thunderheads of orgasms rolled over the expectant landscape of my body, I cried out loud. I’m not an “Oh-my-god” kind of girl -- but oh-my fucking-god! The sounds I made were just that: sounds. Even to my own ears they were the cries of an animal in distress. They certainly weren’t the of moans of pleasure a nice girl like me usually makes when in the midst of making love.

Afterwards they eased me onto the sofa where Mandy sat beside me and gently stoked my hair.

“Sorry if things became a little . . . Impromptu,” she said, “We just couldn't help ourselves -- really we couldn’t, sweetheart. That‘s how gorgeous you are. But I suppose you know that already, don‘t you princess.” Then she stooped and began to remove my white boots. “Here, let me take these off.” she said. “Much better. Your legs are really stunning. So long. So smooth.” She caressed my calves, then gently up over my thighs, back down again.

“We should go upstairs,” Tom said.

“Would you like that, sweetheart? To spend the night with me and Tom” she asked gently -- though there was no need. As a woman she would know how much I now needed Tom’s cock inside me.

“You take her up to the guest room, Tom, while I take a peep at Jake. I want to make sure he’s sound asleep.”

And with that she left the room. Tom came to me and reached out with both arms. I took each hand and he pulled me to my feet. The soles of my bare feet were sweat-sticky on the parquet.

We were alone again and I remembered how much I fancied him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“This is all so intense.”

“We like to look after our guests, make them welcome.”

And with that he suddenly lifted me up and into his arms in one swift action. I became like a sleepy child cradled in his arms. He carried me from the lounge and through to the hall and up their wide, elegant staircase. The ease with which he did this astonished me, his core strength more than even his muscular body suggested. I thought of a male dancer and the ease with which they might lift a prima ballerina. I hadn’t been carried in such a way since by my father all those years ago. It felt familiar, so nice, as if I no longer had to worry about anything. I rested my head against his shoulder and breathed in the newly washed fragrance of his crisp, white dress-shirt, mixing with fading after-shave; and beneath those, his own bodily aroma. I closed my eyes and became content. I wanted to stay with him in this house for ever.

The bedroom was large and had a double bed loaded with elaborately covered cushions, and a sumptuous quilt that chilled my backside when Tom placed me gently down.

I watched him undress. His shirt removed and then his trousers, which he folded neatly and placed on the flat on the bare dresser. After those, his boxers gone to reveal a cock already primed. It had a certain bulk and weight and pointed forward as he walked towards me, swinging from side to side slightly with each step. I lay back on the bed anticipating his arrival, parting my legs for him. Even though the two orgasms I had previously enjoyed had been wonderful, what approached me now was what in my heart of hearts I had craved throughout the evening.

He lay on the bed beside me and I turned to him and we kissed again. My hand went to his cock to cherish its bulk, Then I kissed my way down his abdomen, all rippled like drying sand on a beach left ridged by a gently retreating tide. When I was where I intended, I greedily stuffed all him into my mouth -- at least, as much as I could accommodate. Oh god, the taste of him. That first time his flesh filled my mouth was something special. I caressed his balls while my tongue circled the exposed, raw tip, then I traced a wet line with my tongue own the length of the underside of him and back again. Repeat.

But he eased me from him, saying, “God, Lauren. I’d rather cum in your cunt . . .”

“Do you have protection, I said.”

Even though I was always ready to jump into bed with a good looking man, unless they had a condom they would have to make do with other than a fuck.

“If the lady insists,” he said, leaning over to the bedside table and extracting a pack.

Looking back now, I wonder if he’d not had a condom whether I would have still let him fuck me. No man had ever made me so crazy for sex as Tom did that night. In the heat of that perfect evening I might have thrown caution to the wind. I’ll never Know for sure.

He ripped open the packet and slipped the condom on. I raised my knees and parted my legs wide. I wanted him to seem me, see my cunt in all its shaved glory. I love men to look at my cunt. It gives me sensual thrill of conceit to see what an enchantment something so commonplace yet seldom seen can cast. How often a new lover has gaped in wonder at my cunt, as if it held the secret of all secrets. And when they had seen enough of that spot that obsesses men so much, I liked to watch their faces as they lower themselves onto me with expression determined not to disappoint. Their determination not humiliate themselves.

Tom was no different. He kneeled on the bed with his cock straining. For a moment he stared. “I love shaved pussy,” he said before taking his own cock in his hand and directing it between my legs. I was so glad I did not have to guide him, so glad he did not fumble at the crucial point. So many men do, you know. And for me it’s a complete downer when that happens. There swelling tip fudging between my buttocks. Clumsiness: a passion killer.

Only seconds after he had eased his cock into me, Mandy entered the room and came and sat at the edge of the bed, next to my head. She watched her husband‘s buttocks rise and fall for a moment, then turned and watched my face, scrutinising my expressions. But I held her eyes even as the mass of Tom’s cock made me want to gasp and grit my teeth. I wrapped my legs about him and drew my knees way back, cradled his head in my hands, and while I did so she stroked my hair and spoke to me gently.

“Sweetheart, please tell me how he feels . . . How his cock feels inside you. Is he enough for you, Lauren? Is he everything you thought he would be?”

Her tone was low and sultry, over- laden with husky arousal. Seeing me beneath her husband was exciting her so much. Her fingers stroked my face, parted my lips and rubbed my gums deep into my mouth, her nails hard against my teeth.

If someone had told me one day I would be having sex with a man like Tom while his wife sat by my side talking to me, asking me how I found her husband -- asking me like any other person might ask if the wine they had served up at a dinner party was acceptable -- well, I would have said they had a twisted imagination and that I would never dream of doing such a thing.

But I was excused the need to answer her questions when her lips covered mine and her tongue paid a return visit to my lonely mouth. And so she kissed me with deep sensuous care while her husband, with arms as Doric Columns raising him above our kissing heads, relentlessly fucked me in carefully metered thrusts. My palms left Tom and enfolded Mandy’s cheeks, holding her in place, not wanting her to abandon me.

Tom had that knack that too few men have learned; that of grinding his pubic bone against mine when he was at the deepest point of his thrusts. Rarely do I cum from being fucked. It is only if a man realises the source of a girl’s pleasure that there is a possibility.

I can’t say for sure he would have manage it on his own because it was at this point that Mandy lent a hand. Literally lent a hand: her palm slid over my belly and, in a apt moment between Tom’s rise and fall, slid it down to my clit. His thrusting would press her hand against me when he descended, and as he rose it would be released again.

My orgasm arrived when his cock was deepest. For me to cum with a man so imbedded was enough in itself to make the risk of coming home with them that evening worth it. I raised my hips and drew him tight to me by pressing my ankles into the small of his back, imagining I could force him deeper, but there was now no deeper for him to go. And all the time I held Mandy’s head firmly between my palms, forcing her to maintain our kiss even as my head twisted one way then another in mind altering bliss..

Drenched in sweat he lay on me while his cock softened inside me. I too glistened with it, his and my own. I looked at Mandy and was amazed to see she was still fully clothed. All the time I was being fucked by Tom I was aware only of her face as we kissed.

She stood and went to the dresser and removed her pearl necklace and earrings. She came to the foot of the bed and looked at me.

“Now it’s time for Mandy to have some attention. Be a real sweetheart, Lauren. Come and help me with the my dress.”

I went to her quickly, stood behind her and unfastened the zipper. I had to peel the dress from her body, it clung in all the right places and in others not intended. When she was free, I stood straight up but left her dress on the floor. She seemed irritated, gracefully stooped and retrieved it. She walked away from me with the dress and carefully draped it over the back of an occasional chair, one of three that were in the room.

I watcher her return and was bemused to see she wore flesh coloured nylon-stockings supported by short suspenders dangling from a black panty-girdle. Her legs were long, shapely, sturdy; her flesh showing tanned at the top where her stockings failed to cover.

Her bras was front fastening and she had to squeeze her breast together to undo it, emphasising her cleavage. Then in a simple kata of two movements it was gone and all her prodigious flesh was free. I already knew of what substance they held but now I saw how amazingly firm they were. I wondered if she’d had work done, but they looked so natural. I’d imagined women of her age as beginning to lose the firmness a young woman’s is blessed with. And later in our friendship she did confess to having a surgeon. Her breasts were not the only work he had performed. Her surgeon was gifted.

She pressed those wondrous naked breasts against me and held me to her tightly. I was overwhelmed by such a curvaceous embrace, the softness of naked breasts against me was something I’d never experienced. I thought the moment magical, the way she enfolded me was all-consuming. Once again I breathed her in and her fragrance reassured me, made me feel, in some strange way as if I had come home. She had taken me under her wing. I felt mothered.

I wanted to taste her breasts, fill my mouth with as much of her wonderfulness as I could. I pushed my face between her copious clashing flesh, pawing her from each side with palms in a pincer movement of enfoldment, squeezing them into each other, causing their soft mass to cushion softly against my nuzzling cheeks. Now I knew how men felt who so often went at my body as if it would be their one and only chance. I wanted her, wanted every inch of her instantaneously.

Her nipples engorged, pliant to my teeth. She gasped when bit gently, angling my canine’s and alternating between each. I rolled down her girdle and let my palms relish the fudge softness of her buttocks, kneading her flesh like warm newly risen dough while her panty-girdle became a tight band of Lycra binding her thighs.

I knew I had to please her like she had pleased me, return the gift of oral sex. As we kissed I imagined how her cunt would taste, what its aroma would be. A new things to taste a woman down there. I hoped I would not disappoint.

“I want to please you,” I whispered on heavy breath.

“I should hope so, too” she whispered.

She disengaged herself from me, stood and wriggled out of her panty-girdle, then she went to the bed and lay down by Tom. He turned to her, propped himself up on one arm and watched what now unfolded

She parted her legs and I stood for a moment to gaze at the newly exposed, raw flesh, wondered if she received the sae pleasure from being viewed that I did. When she saw me looking, she touched herself with determined fingers while staring at me intently, her eyes expressing a yearning I worried I might not have the skill to satisfy.

My head between her legs, her fingers clawed my scalp. The scent of her shower mingled with feral femininity; an electric tang of battery almost spent moistened my tongue, a metallic hint of something that nearly wasn’t. Copious saliva wetting her, slathering my jutting chin that became enfolded in labia flesh. Cunt-wetness like spare-rib grease. Her palms clamped my head, subtly piloting me to where she liked it just-so. My palms under her arse, pulling the mass of her buttock flesh horizontal along the bed towards me -- so much of her, soft and plump under my chin; butt-crack and cheeks against my upper chest and collarbone.

The creaking of the bed as Tom alighted. Gone for a moment. I gave him no thought until the mattress dipped behind me and I felt his hands widening my legs and entering me with a single brusque lunge. Flat on my belly, I grunted into her cunt and she moaned appreciative thanks. Tom pounded me, his flesh slapping at my buttocks while the bed heaved beneath the three of us in time to his rise and fall. It was as if it we were all adrift on a raft swept way beyond the breakers, a retreating tide moving us away from land, swept out on a rip-tide and into a waxing swell.

Her inner thighs against my cheeks, heels on my back. She shook and gyrated when she orgasamed, squeezed my head between her thighs. And all the time, Tom pornographically fucking me from behind like I wanted it that way, as if I were an ungrateful slut for the previous orgasms I’d stolen all evening, as if he had been belittled in someway and now he wanted to prove what a stud he was.

And prove it he did. It was relentless. I was never going to cum, positioned like that, but on and on it went. Mandy eased herself form us and stood up. I heard her leave the room and close the door.

Tom had not faltered once. Man-machine! Then, as he pulled back ready to thrust again, his cock slipped from me. I heard him swear under his breath. But then he was holding his own cock and sliding it up and down the crack of my arse. It slipped and skidded between my cheeks. I braced myself for what I was sure would come. When he pressed against himself against my anus heard his moans as I felt the throb of spunk travel along the length of his cock. When his jizz filled the crevice of my arse, I relaxed again knowing I had escaped what I had dared anticipate..

“ Lauren, you inspire me,” he said as he stood and reached for tissue from a box on the bedside table.

I did not answer. I remained flat on my belly sensing his jizz trickling down from my arse and onto my cunt. He returned to me and stroked my back, then gently arranging my hair so that it trailed down my spine.

“Are you alright?”

“You and Mandy make me happy,” I said. “I never want to leave here.”

“Stay.” He said. I noticed his morning stubble when kissed my shoulder. “Stay as long as you want.”

“You would soon get bored of me.”

“I’d never become bored with you, Lauren.”

“I have things to do at home. Is the lift you promised me still on?” I said.

“Only if you make love to us one more time,” he said, then slapped my arse playfully.

Mandy returned. “just checking on ***. He was having a bad dream,” she said to Tom, but coming to me, laying down by my side. Our arms enfolded each other, our legs slotted together.

The three of us made love until dawn. And afterwards, one by one we fell asleep. I lay awake between them, feeling so special, cherished. Through half-closed lids I watched the dawn start to back-light the window blinds. That’s when I must have drifted off to sleep. And even though I saw Mandy and Tom many times again, that night will always be special.

The next day I woke up alone in their guest bed. I showered in the en-suite and found Mandy had left out fresh soap and a new toothbrush, still in its packaging. Clean towels too. They looked also new.

Someone had brought my clothes up and placed them on a chair. And thoughtfully, a pair of bamboo panties tight in cellophane packaging. As I slipped them on I thought about when Tom had asked to take my own off the night before. I made a mental memo to retrieve them when I next got in their car.

Downstairs, Tom was at the table reading his tablet. He smiled a warm, maybe even a bashful smile. I said hi sheepishly and went and sat at the table. His plate was smeared in the detritus of a Full English. My stomach yelled a brief protest.

I sat and watched Mandy busily fussing with her son sat in his high chair. She was no longer the elegant beauty of the previous night, had morphed into a yummy-mummy attending to her child with maternal love. Her hair was up and she wore a simple patterned summer frock, her feet were bare but toes still glossed magenta. But the heavy mascara and lip-gloss that had made her the Vamp she had been the night before was now only a memory. I noticed that even without makeup her skin was good, was fresh and pliant, the only hints of her age laughter lines, gently tracings at the corners of her eyes.

I though her beautiful still.

She asked me if I wanted breakfast and I said tea and toast please would be fine.

I spent the day with them. We told each other about our lives. They showed me around the house. I loved to see Mandy’s obvious joy in telling me about the paintings that hung in every room. Outside I learned she was a keen gardener, had designed their garden from scratch. It was not mature but I knew it would become something beautiful in the years to come. And so I came to know who they were.

Stepping out into the morning air in my retro clothes of the night before felt surreal. My knickers were still somewhere the back to Tom’s Merc. When he pulled up in it after fetching it from the garage, I immediately went into the back to find them. I sat once again on the cool leather, this time stuffing them into my bag instead of taking the off. As I did, I thought about how Tom had kissed and fingered me on the journey to their home.

I saw Tom and Mandy a number of times after that night. At first it was enough for them to be with just me. It was certainly all I needed, me to be with them. Little by little though I was introduced to their social circle. You see they were beginning to return to the life they had once enjoyed before Mandy became pregnant.

Over the following year, I was invited to join them at parties where I met friends of theirs. Once they drove me to a large country house where I spent an entire weekend. The guests were lovers of BDSM and bondage -- pony girls in harness and all that stuff. I realised as soon as they put the bit in my mouth it was not really my thing. But hey-ho. Been there done that.

There are some things that even I’d rather not write about -- or even remember, for that matter.


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