It was just after the Sunday morning service had ended at St Jude’s when Michael Scanlon spotted her and thought for a woman of her age she had a particularly nice figure.
The woman in question had just come down
the steps from the church and had stopped briefly to converse with friends and
by that time he was sitting at a table outside the Café Espresso just opposite
the church entrance.
He was not a Christian himself but he was
often sat outside the Church on a Sunday morning when church emptied.
Which on the face of it sounds very wrong,
but in his defence he sits there waiting for the Phoenix shopping centre to
open, but he would have to admit that he did get a kick out of ogling all the
Christian women in their Sunday best.
He knew the woman slightly, her name was
Lorraine Lyon and they were both members of the same Golf club, Forest Ridge.
She was a very wealthy woman by all
accounts, which was self-evident by the way she was dressed, though her
financial status was of secondary concern to him when he looked at her.
Everything Lorraine wore was real quality
and she was always immaculately turned out.
So he was quite surprised on that day to
see her standing chatting on the concourse wearing of all things, leggings,
expensive, good quality leggings, but leggings nonetheless.
His surprise quickly abated however as he
looked at the exquisite fit of the leggings and he was just thinking to himself
that she had a very nice arse, when she shifted her body weight from one leg to
the other and turned slightly towards him just as a beam of sunlight fell upon
her, or at least on the part of her he was looking at, and as it illuminated
her hind quarters it revealed as clear as day her big black knickers underneath
the exquisitely fitted leggings.
It was at that point he decided to chance his
arm; after her conversation was over he got up and went over and intercepted
her.
“Lorraine?” he said
“Oh hello” she replied, “Mr. Scanlon isn’t
it?”
“Please call me Michael,” he said
“Michael” she complied
Once he had her attention they chatted
about the Forest Ridge Golf Club and
the upcoming ladies day.
“You must be in with a chance of a medal”
Michael said “A player of your standard”
“Oh dear me” she said all flustered “I
don’t know about that”
And having duly flattered her to the point
of blushing he invited her to lunch which she graciously accepted.
He was confident that she would, after all
a woman of her age would always be at the very least flattered by the attention
of a younger man especially one 9 years younger.
Michael had always been attracted to older
women, not too much older five or ten years normally.
But of course by the time he reached his
50s there seemed to be an overabundance of suitable candidates for his lust,
widows mainly, which kept him gainfully employed.
They enjoyed a very pleasant lunch, which
consisted of three courses, two bottles of wine and an abundance of flirting,
at a very decent restaurant from where after plying her with liberal amounts of
wine he drove her home.
“It was a very nice lunch Michael,” she
said as he pulled up on the drive outside her very large house. “Thank you”
“My pleasure” he said with further
pleasures on his mind and then she asked
“Would you like to come in for coffee?”
“I would love to” he replied
And after coffee Michael did what he was
actually invited in to do which was to liberate Lorraine from her expensive
leggings and tug off her classy black knickers off her plump mature arse and
too their mutual pleasure gave her a proper Sunday service in her deceased
husband favourite chair.
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