'That's not so big now!!!'
said Joan, as she fondled my cock in her hand, then kissed my foreskin and slipped the point of her tongue underneath.
'Yes, you won't get much action out of it now, Joan...'
'But it's a lovely cock, nice and thick, and I just love to lick that last drop of spunk off the head. And who knows, maybe there might be afters...'
'Yes, if you've got the time this morning, you might get a second helping! I really enjoyed that fuck, and I hope that we can make this a regular occurence. You're a very attractive woman, and I've lusted after you for some time. Everytime I watched you walk down the street to the shop I could see what a fantastic, strong body you have. So lithe, so slim, and such a great bum, tight and taut.... And these boobs - they're not huge, but they look so round and full whenever I look at them.... And as for these nipples - they stand out beautifully when it's cold. You're just built to be fucked. Often. And in every hole....'
'You've definitely got a silvery tongue, Sean... I can see why you charmed our Hayley. Don't think I don't know! I saw her leaving your house a few times with a warm glow on her cheeks. And then when I went down to stay with her in London last year I overheard her talking to a friend about you. You obviously taught her a thing or two... You going to teach me a thing or two?'
'I'm not sure if there's much to teach, Joan! You seem to be pretty skilled in the sex department. And I was stunned that you were so keen to offer up your arse to me there now. Most women take some persuading! You said you've been taking it up the back passage since you were fourteen! Tell me more!!!'
'Well it's true. I took my first cock up my bum when I was fourteen. You wouldn't remember him, and he'slong dead now....'
'Who?'
'It was Mr Snowden, the colliery manager. My mother used to clean for his wife, during the week, but it was a Saturday and Mrs Snowden was in Derby with a friend. She needed some extra cleaning done, so mum sent me round to help, as she was busy at home with my younger brother and sister. I suppose she thought it was safe!'
'...and what happened?'
'I went round to the Snowdens and Mrs Snowden was ready to leave. She told me what she needed cleaning and that Herbert her husband would be back soon. I'd helped my mother clean before, so I knew what to do. I dusted the dining room like she'd asked, and laid the table for the dinner they were giving that night, then went and started to dust her husband's study. Then, by mistake I knocked a big envelope with foreign stamps off his desk and lots of photographs fell all over the floor. I was a bit shocked - they were naked men and women fucking in all kinds of ways. I'd never seen anything like it before, although I had seen a cock a few times...'
'Really?'
'Yes. George Travers used to show me his after we'd been to the cinema. He got me to lick it for him down in the woods, and if we had the time, I would rub him until he came. I suppose I did that from twelve...'
'Amazing. What a secret slut you've been! That's old George who died last year?'
'The very same. Although I don't think he got much of that after he married Betty. She was a tartar to him.'
'Anyway, what happened with Mr Snowden?'
'Well of course, I was taking a look at these photographs, and he came in quietly, and caught me as I was putting them all back in the envelope. 'So you've been looking at my anatomical photographs young Joan? he said to me. 'I hope you weren't too shocked dear. An American friend I served with in the war sent them to me, and I was about to burn them. Chet was always more enthusiastic about that kind of thing than me. You won't mention them to my wife, or my mother, will you?'
'Of course not Mr Snowden. I knocked them over by mistake. Mum always tells me that I'm too clumsy.'
'Well Joan, you are growing up and at your age lots of girls and boys are a little clumsy. Here's a little something as a token for your troubles,' he said, handing me a ten-bob note. I took the note and thanked him, but Jeff, I think he could tell that I was curious about the pictures!'
'I'm just going to count the pictures and check if Chet has sent any family photos - if you'll excuse me Joan. You can carry on dusting the bookshelves.' Jeff I was fit to be tied! He opened the envelope again and started two piles. On one he put some pictures of an American family and their big house. On the other he put the mucky pictures. I tried to carry on dusting.
'Joan come here and look at these pictures of Chet and his wife and children. He was a pilot with me in the far east, and now he owns a big advertising business. And these I think are some of the girls who work as models for him... '
and yes, Jeff, there were pictures of this man Chet and other men fucking these lovely looking girls. And more of the girls kissing each o ther, and fingering each other's fannies, and spreading their legs and showing off their family jewels. And more of the girls taking the blokes cocks in their mouths! I'd never seen anything like it. I was getting worked up I'll tell you!! And as I looked at the photos, I could see that Mr Snowden had his right hand in his pocket, and then I felt his left one fondling my arse. Then he ran his hand up the back of my legs, and slipped his fingers inside my knickers. He was playing with my cunt and making me squirm...
'Oh Joan, you are a naughty girl,' he said to me 'A nice young girl like you shouldn't be getting wet and excited over pictures like these... I think you know more than you should....'
'What do you mean, Mr Snowden?'
'Well, I think you might have seen one of these before,' he said, opening his flies and pulling out his cock 'I've seen you with George Travers while I've been out bird-watching... '
I blushed, Sean, I thought we'd been really careful...
'Well, Joan, what would you do If I was George? I might make it worth your while....'
In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought and I bent down over his crotch and took Mr Snowden's big cock in my mouth, stroking it with my fingers as I went.
'That's very good Joan, and you can do it to me again sometime, but for now I want to empty myself inside you. And I will do it in a special way that means that you've no risk of having a baby. Now bend over, Joan...'
With that he lifted up the gingham dress I was wearing, and lowered my knickers down over my knee socks. Then he got a jar of vaseline out of his desk drawer and started to rub it into my arsehole with his right index finger, while he fiddled with my cunt with his left hand. It felt good, Sean, really good and although I didn't know it was what you called it then, I had an orgasm, and got all shuddery and sweaty and wet... Then he slipped more fingers up my arse, and then I could feel that he was working the head of his cock over my arsehole...
'Did it hurt, Joan?'
'Yes, as it went in it hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before, but he'd worked a lot of vaseline in and although he was firm, he was slow and steady, like you are Jeff. And he kept rubbing my cunt at the same time, so I had that tingling and wet all the time. It was just wonderful. Ever since I've know that it's a lovely way to get fucked. Women who don't let their men take them up the bum don't know what they're missing! Then he got faster, and I had another orgasm, and he shuddered and groaned and I felt him come inside me. It was wonderful, and even better as I felt his spunk coming out of my throbbing arsehole. God all this talk is making me horny Sean - I hope you're not going to deny me another seeing to this morning!'
'Of course not, Joan. But tell me what happened next?'
'Well he me gave another ten-bob note, but said it might be better if he set me up a bank account to put the money in, as he'd like to make it a regular appointment. Apparently, his wife swung the other way, and she spent her Saturdays with this old school friend for an afternoon of tongue and groove, if you know what I mean! I suspect Mrs snowden was also paying my mother for more than cleaning too, but I've never been sure. Anyway, Mr Snowden said that he knew he was bright at school, and he told my mother that he'd teach me some extra maths on Saturday morning after doing the cleaning. And he did, although we always finished with a good fuck in his study or the bedroom he shared with Mrs Snowden. He got me lots of nice stockings and underwear which he kept in a box in his study, which I'd wear for him - it always seemed to get him more excited... He used to fuck me all sorts of ways, he took my cunt the following week, although he was careful to wear a johnny and he also liked it when I sucked him off. A bit like you and our Hayley in a way. He didn't get me into Cambridge, but he did help me get good exam results! And £300 in the bank by the time I joined the RAF at 18!'
'Well, Joan, I'll do the maths on how many fucks that adds up to later, but for now I think I'll do something else... You're definitely going to be added to my stable of sexual partners with a willing arse and cunt like that. We'll just have to make sure that you're properly equipped - I want to see a much sexier set of knickers drying on your line in the coming weeks, and I will take you to visit a lady I know who will fit you out.'
'That would be great! I'm tired of the white briefs, and as I'll be dropping my knickers for you from now on, I'd better be dressed to your taste...'
'You'll be very much dressed to my taste, and you'll be going down to the shop in crotchless panties with the breeze blowing up your skirts by the time I've finished with you. But for now, it's time for a good girl to open her legs again. I think I'm going to have your cunt this time...'
It all started with Joan one morning last year. My partner, Liz was going away with her job. Specifically, she was travelling to the US with her needy, repressed-lesbian boss, Gill, to do a week's consultancy assignment with a long-term client. Liz and Gill have been sleeping together for years, and I'm happy with it, as it keeps the money flowing, and allows me to pursue the life I want. It also allows me to enjoy other women, and ultimately I know that what Liz and I have really suits both of us. However, Liz was off to the airport, and as she'd got home really late the previous evening, I hadn't had a chance to fuck her, and quite frankly, I was gagging for a shag....
I heard her wake next to me, the sound of her in the shower, her footsteps around the room as she put on her clothes, and the delightful rustle as she put on her stockings. I made some half-awake mumblings, then waited as she went downstairs and started breakfast. Quick as a flash, I reached for the gag, the handcuffs and a tube of lube from the bedside table. Then I slipped downstairs, grabbed her from arms from behind, cuffed her and bent her over the kichen worktop, and slipping the ball-gag over her mouth. Normally on occasions such as this, I like to leave Gill with a taste of me, as I know that she will be desperate to lick Liz's cunt from the moment they meet. She can't concentrate on anything to do with work until she's had Liz, and it's a toss-up whether they will have sex in a toilet at the airport or whether Gill will be able to control herself until they get onto the plane. And of course, although Liz would normally wear stockings anyway, the fact that her lingerie choice offers Gill easy access to her willing cunt and the chance of a grope in the back of the taxi is a big factor in the bonus she gets every year and is very remunerative for us as a couple!
This morning however, I was intent on Liz's arse, and I forced the small of her back down hard with my left hand as I pulled her knickers down to her knees, before squeezing a big blob of lube over her anal rosebud. I teased her for a minute or two, as she was finding it difficult to move, rubbing my cock over her stockings, and working her slit and her clitoris with one hand and stroking her arsehole with the other. Then, with my cock hard, it was time to push slowly into her arsehole, one gentle push to just touch the rim, then another, then another, finally with her breathing out and relaxing, a firm thrust through her sphincter, before getting deep inside her and thrusting rhythmically inside her. Liz loves anal, and her groans as she took me deep inside her were loud and joyous. I kept on fucking her for quite a while, but as I thought about letting myself come, I looked in the kitchen mirror and saw that our neighbour Joan was at the kitchen door, transfixed. As far as I could see she had a parcel in one hand, but the other was exploring deep down inside her grey jogging bottoms.
'Cheeky old woman! I'll give her something to look at...' I thought, and with a final long thrust shot a hot jet of jizz deep inside Liz, who was by now totally preoccupied with the orgasm my thrusting and manipulation of her clit had brought her to. Then, I slipped out quickly, and with my still erect cock continuing to pump large drops of cum, I turned and held it up for Joan to look at, and gave her a big wink... She gasped, wide-eyed, and then, embarrassed to be caught, turned and scuttled back next door. Liz was oblivious, and as I released her, I told her she was a good girl, and that maybe she might like to try some anal rimming with Gill that night!
'That was lovely, and I'm sure Gill will savour your flavour, but for now I need the bidet to rinse my arse out, you bugger! And the fucking taxi's due in fifteen minutes!'
So we went upstairs to the bathroom, and as she sat on the bidet doucheing the cum out of her arse, she kissed my now shrinking cock, and told me to be good while she was away.... Ten minutes later, the taxi arrived with Gill already in the back looking anxious. As it drove away with Liz, I thought first of how long it would take Gill to reach between Liz's legs, and then of that parcel, and how I was going to get it.
I knew who it was from. It was innocuous stuff. Mehmet, a Turkish writer whose work I translate into English had found me some volumes of Sufi poetry which is one of my areas of study, and was sending them to me. They were background material for a monograph I was writing on aspects of nineteenth century Turkish verse, but I'd reached a minor creative impasse and needed them as soon as possible. I was going to have to call in on Joan, and apologise for my behaviour....
I didn't know Joan particularly well. She and her late husband, Eric, had lived next to us for all the years that we had lived in the village. Eric had retired as a senior NCO from the RAF in the early 1980's and they'd moved back as Joan's family all lived locally. Joan had been in the RAF in the sixties and seventies, but had left when she and Eric married. Apart from nodding over the fence, collecting parcels and exchanging cards at Christmas we had little contact. What I knew about them came from her grand-niece, Hayley. I'd met Hayley during one of my informal poet-in-residence stints at the local comprehensive. She was bright and starting sixth-form, and I'd followed a discussion session at school with a recommendation that she attend an exhibition opening at our local art gallery. Needless to say I happened to be there too, and took her for a coffee in the gallery cafe afterwards.
I fancied the pants off her, but knew I had to be discrete and careful. She was legal, but only just. I was also certain that she was getting hooked on my bohemian intellectual schtick, but I was going to take my time. I kept her at a distance for a while, lending her books at school, and making suggestions about how she could broaden her knowledge. Finally the term and my sessions finished, and I knew that she still had one of my books. We ran into each other at the newsagent where she had a Saturday job and she asked me about giving it back, so I suggested dropping it around after school on the first Monday in January. She turned up with the book in her hand and an anticipatory smile on her face after school. Liz was away, and I knew that Eric and Joan were on a cruise. She was lovely - short grey skirt, black tights, white blouse, blazer and school tie over a lovely slim body - with short blonde hair, blue eyes and glasses. I invited her in for a coffee. She bowed her head a little, shyly, smiled, and came in...
'Tell me if I'm wrong, Hayley, but I think you'd like me to kiss you.'
She smiled and looked into my eyes, and our lips met.
'I'm a virgin' she said, as I lifted the back of her skirt and fondled her lovely tight arse through her tights and panties.
'Well, I won't rush you. We'll only do what you're comfortable with, when you want to do it.'
Two hours later she lay on her back on my bed, and I licked the huge cum stain on the bed, before kissing the open lips of her lovely young cunt. There was a little blood with the cum, where I'd bust her hymen, but she was a happy girl.
'That's such a pretty bloodstain, and I'm really touched that you've given up your maidenhead to me. I think we just had to do it today, Hayley. It felt so right' I said 'and we're lucky you're on the pill to keep your periods under control.'
She kissed me again, and lay smiling in my arms for a little longer. Then I got a fresh pair of tights for her from Liz's drawer, as I'd ripped
hers when I pulled them down rather vigorously, and a fresh pair of plain white knickers of Liz's too. It wasn't to be the first time she was to use Liz's underwear. For the next two years, until she went to Cambridge I fucked her two or three times a week. Lovely routines developed. Within a week her anal cherry got popped. Sometimes I had her hard and quick, pulling her tights down, forcing her panties aside and fucking her cunt. Others, she'd go upstairs, put on some of Liz's lingerie and we'd have long slow session, licking each other then with her straddling me and lowering her willing cunt over my erect cock followed with a slow anal drilling. And we talked about things - politics, culture, literature - and now eight years on she's a commissioning editor for arts programmes for the BBC, so she did very well out of the arrangement.
I hadn't talked to Hayley much about Joan and Eric. There was a degree of respect and caution when she discussed them, or her family in general. Eric was ex-forces, and an authoritarian husband and father; and like many of the local mining families there was a degree of rigidity and authoritarianism, with strong silent fathers and grandfathers and powerful matriarchal mothers and grandmothers which made her discreet and respectful, always wanting to keep the boundary-stretching and sexual adventure with me a secret. In their eyes she was their bright and hard-working daughter, with a bright future ahead of her, not the sexual adventuress who took me in her arse again and again. She was wise beyond her years, and understood my reasons for keeping our relationship under wraps were as much in her interests as mine. So I didn't have much to go on in terms of the approach to Joan, but to add to the need to get those books, there was the reality that she sexually interested me. I knew that she was in her late sixties. I saw also the white cotton briefs from Marks and Sparks that hung three pairs at a time on her washing line, a potential white flag in her war for a further sexual life. I knew that she spent most of her days cleaning and gardening in grey jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt. But she moved with speed, efficiency and a kind of athletic grace. Her house and garden were tidy and under control, the sign of a woman who wasn't going into that dark night quite yet. She was full of energy too, wheeling our bin back into our drive without a second thought. She was slim, and even through the jogging bottoms I could see that this was a woman with a tight arse and tits that hadn't noticeably gone south. I wanted to have her, wanted to see her in stockings and crotchless panties, and wanted to experience the yielding cunt and the firm arse I knew was there....
Nothing for it, I thought. I'll just have to take the risk. Flowers, abject apology, puppy-dog eyes, and absolutely don't mention where I saw her hand and what it had been doing. So I had a quick coffee, got dressed and drove off to town to get some flowers, buy the paper, and gather my thoughts. I got home about eleven, showered and shaved, and slipped the tube of lube in my jacket pocket along with a butt-plug - just in case. Even though I could visualise myself having Joan, and could almost feel her flesh in my hands, my heart was still thumping. This could be disastrous. I could face cold rejection, or a hysterical reaction from her. My behaviour could be the talk of the village, where I'd lived largely quietly and discreetly for ten years. I would have to explain myself to Liz, and although she was generally quite content that I had had a succession of other relationships over the years, the deal was that we were both careful.
It had started to rain. With trepidation, I walked down our drive and then up towards Joan's back door. I knocked, and she came through the kitchen, and looked at me with an expression that was anxious more than anything. She came to the door and opened it, still looking scared. Was this a woman who was feeling ashamed, and just a little vulnerable. She was wearing a blue bathrobe, and it looked as if she'd just come out of the shower, as her short-cropped grey hair was wet.
'You'll have come for the parcel, I suppose,' she said tremulously 'I've put it on the kitchen table. And come in out of that rain....'
I stepped up into the kitchen, but stopped at the door, flowers in my hand.
'Thanks, Joan' I said, 'but I've also come to apologise. I know that Liz and I shouldn't have been doing what were doing this morning in such full view, and that I went a bit far too. I realise that what it must have been really hurtful to you. I know these flowers won't make up for the shock, but I just want to say sorry and I hope there's no harm done.'
'Thanks so much. It's really kind of you, and you didn't need to. What people do in their own home is their own business, and perhaps I was being a bit nosy.'
'So you're not angry with me then?'
'No, I've no right to be. I suppose I was a bit too curious. It's a long time since I've had any of that kind of excitement, and you're lucky to be able to enjoy each other like that. Take it while you can, because when you get to my age, it'll be over! I'm making a cup of tea. Would you like one?'
'Yes please, Joan. I've been rushing around all morning, and I must admit, I'm really thirsty. Anxiety I suppose, didn't know how you'd react.'
'And I didn't know how you'd react...'
'Well, there wasn't anything for me to react to, was there? You were being a perfectly good and decent neighbour, like you always are, and you caught us in the act.'
'Well, you know I had been standing there for a while....'
Joan had turned her back to me and was busy with the tea things, but I was quite close to her.
'And, yes, Joan, I could see your hand was down your trousers...
I gently touched her bottom with my left hand, and slipped it round to the opening of her bathrobe, then ran it down inside the front of her knickers, and parting her pubes, I slipped two fingers between her lips, and put my head against hers.
'...and were you touching this, Joan? It's a bit wet Joan, isn't it? What are you thinking about, Joan? I'll tell you what I'm thinking about, Joan. I'm thinking that you're a really attactive woman, and this lovely body of yours is so ripe and full of promise. I'd really like to fuck you, Joan. And, Joan, I think you want to be fucked. And I think we should do it now. I think you should be a good girl, and make up for being a nosey parker and wanking yourself this morning.'
I started to kiss her neck, and with my right hand I turned her to face me, and kissed her on the lips. Her lips stayed closed for a second, then she returned the kiss, and then our tongues met. My hand was still in her knickers, big white sensible cotton briefs, from Marks's, no doubt, her slit was getting wetter all the time, and I was teasing her clitoris.
'My knickers must be a bit of a disappointment, after those lovely frilly things that Liz wears!'
'It's what's inside them that matters, Joan, and this cunt of yours feels absolutely wonderful!'
'Cunt! Now that's a rude word! Mind you, it sounds good to me when you say it. Cunt. Cunt.'
'Yes, cunt, that's what I'm going to have. And yes, I think that great body of yours would look even better in some sexy underwear and a nice pair of stockings, but you know Joan, I'd like us to make this a regular little event. There's always a chance to wear frillies sometime else.'
'Well, I might have something upstairs, and yes, I put it on sometimes when I'm on my own and I feel really glamourous.'
'That would be lovely Joan. Go on upstairs, make yourself even more gorgoeus, and call me when you're ready!'
I was curious. What would she surprise me with? I don't think I'd ever seen Joan in a skirt, let alone something sexy, although even her jeans or jogging bottoms set off a great arse. She was upstairs for a while, and I could hear doors opening and closing. After what seemed like an age she called me.
'You can come up now.'
I made my way upstairs
'In here,' she called, through an open bedroom door.
I walked in, and was stunned to see Joan in a WRAF Corporal's uniform, complete with cap. She'd made herself up, quite subtly, apart from some wonderful ruby red lipstick on her lips.
'At your service, Sir,' she said, and saluted me.
'This is wonderful, Joan. Like all my Christmasses have come at once!'
We embraced, then kissed, then she slipped down in front of me, and unzipping my flies, took out my very erect cock and started to kiss it, then she wrapped her lips around the head, and worked her tongue underneath. It was all I could do not to come, there and then. I brought her face up to mine, then led her over to the bed and got her to lie down. I lifted her skirt up, to reveal that she was wearing black seamed stockings and suspenders.
'Yes, it's my RAF uniform. I left in 1971, but it still fits!'
'It's lovely, Joan.'
She was wearing a pair of 1960's nylon knickers over her suspenders, and I slipped them down, and started on her cunt with my tongue, gently chewing her lovely set of pissflaps, and exploring deep inside her slit with my tongue. Initially, she tasted of soap, but gradually her natural juices started to work through with a subtle rich and sweet taste. She was enjoying herself quite thoroughly by now, and as she started to lift her pelvis up rhythmically, I slipped first one finger, then another, then a third into her fanny, and still working her clit gently with my tongue, started to frig her with my fingers, bringing her to orgasm. She writhed, her legs went rigid, and she tried to force me out, but failed, and I went back with my hands for more for a minute.
'Joan. I have a little surprise in my jacket. I want you to lift your legs, hold them apart and close your eyes, like a good girl...'
I reached into the jacket pocket, got out the butt-plug, covered it in lube and slipped it easily into her anus. Very easily... It was almost as if she'd practiced...
'That feels great. I haven't had anything up my bum for over thirty years, and god, I miss it...'
I was facing Joan now, and gently worked the butt-plug in and out of her arse, still kissing her cunt. Then, at last, I slipped my cock inside her lovely cunt and started to fuck her, still working the butt-plug gently with my hand.
'That's lovely Sean, and I hope that you'll fuck me in my cunt soon, but for now, I really want you to take me up the arse. After seeing you buggering Liz this morning, I really want you up there. I love it so much, and it's so long since I've had anyone up there. When I used to do it, we used vaseline, but I can see you have some cream. Let me get up, so you can have me properly.'
With that she got up, and took off her uniform jacket, and facing the foot of the bed, hitched up her skirt around her waist. I came round behind her, and through her blue blouse, I undid her bra. Then, reaching around, I undid her blouse at the front, and reached in and felt her breasts. They hung a little, but I was surprised how firm they were, and how big and erect her nipples were. Lots of promise in this woman, and I was definitely going to make this a regular event. Then leaving her breasts alone, I started to lick her arsehole. Again, it tasted of soap and lube initially, although when I got my tongue in deep I got a delightful hint of something salty. I just wanted to have it so much. Again, and again. Especially as I was really curious about how this outwardly respectable working-class Derbyshire pensioner had such an obvious appetite for anal sex.
I reached for the lube, and squirted a big dollop onto Joan's starfish, then worked first one finger into her bum, then another, then another. Then, I touched her arsehole with the head of my dick, and pushed once, twice and a third time inside, thrusting my cock through the tight collar of her sphincter and deep into her back passage, all the while working her cunt with my other hand. After ten minutes of thrusting back and forth the tingling in my cock was getting too much, and for the second time that day, I released a hot load in a woman's arse. Joan purred and groaned with happiness
'Joan, that was lovely...'
'God, Sean, I took my first cock up my arse when I was fourteen, and there's nothing to beat it.'
'Joan, I haven't finished yet! Stay bent over like a good girl!'
And with that, I spread on some more lube, thrust in one finger, then another, then another, then crossing my palm with my thumb, I slipped in my little finger, then worked the whole fist carefully through her arsehole. She started to scream and stamp the floor with pain, but I wasn't going to give up. With my other hand, I grabbed and twisted first one nipple, then another, before spreading some more lube on the arm that I was working up and down her arsehole. Then I bent down behind her, and started to frig her cunt again. Her screams and groans were getting louder, and suddenly her body went rigid and she was possessed with a succession of three or four powerful orgasms.
'Enough, Sean. That was fantastic! Seventy and a whole fist up my arse for the first time. Promise me it won't be the last.'
