(Part 01)
Tom Haggerty lived in a quaint Tudor cottage in a quiet suburb on the posh side of Childean.
He was fifty Two years old and recently widowed and immediately after his wife’s death he seemed to suddenly appear on the radar of the local spinster’s, widows and divorcees in and around his own age.
In fact it all started at his wife’s funeral where he was buttonholed by two well-presented mourners who made it perfectly clear he could avail himself of them if he chose to do so.
But it was many months after his dear wife was laid to rest and only after repeatedly rebuffing the endless advances of even the most attractive of the local pursuing vamps that he finally decided out of desperation and loneliness to dip his toe in the water and bump uglies with some of the local “talent”.
And those salacious liaisons went on for some time but as enjoyable as they were his heart wasn’t really in it, but he would probably have continued nonetheless but for a providential collision.
When quite by chance on one damp miserable day he met Wendy in Tesco’s car park after a minor fender bender.
She was a very beautiful woman, tall and willowy with long light ginger hair, and a smiling freckled face.
Wendy was a much younger woman than Tom had of late been involved with, in fact she was a considerably younger woman than he, whom at the time he looked upon her merely as a casual observer, although he thought she was attractive and shapely with her Lycra outfit doing nothing to hide her assets, he completely overlooked the fact that he was a man and she was a woman, because he believed she couldn’t possibly be interested in an old man like him.
And although they laughed and joked and she flicked at her hair flirtatiously he was flattered but for him it was a nonstarter, the stuff of cheap fiction, or so he thought at least, but in time he was to find out that he was wrong.
It was a warm summer Saturday afternoon a few days after the accident when Wendy knocked on his door.
“Oh hello” he said doing a double take when he recognised the beautiful smiling young woman, not dressed in Lycra or with her hair up this time, but her ginger tresses flowed free and she was wearing a summer dress, and very little else as far as he could tell.
“Hi Tom” she said and flicked her wayward hair off her face.
“This is a surprise” he said
“I wanted to make sure you were ok” Wendy said and proffered to him a bottle of wine “And apologize again”
“There really is no need” Tom insisted
“I thought there was”
“Well this is very kind of you” he said “but I can’t accept it unless you join me in drinking it”
“I thought you would never ask”
“Well you make yourself comfortable on the patio and I’ll get some glasses” he said
(Part 02)
So Wendy walked out through the French doors while Tom went into the kitchen and got two glasses from the cupboard and after opening the bottle of Pinot he poured two generous glasses of the wine and headed towards the patio.
He stepped outside with a glass in each hand but his uninvited guest was nowhere to be seen, at least not at first.
Tom had assumed she had just taken a turn around the garden while she was waiting and was about to put the glasses down and go in search of her when she suddenly came into view.
“You see I made myself comfortable” she said as she stood on the edge of the patio with the greenery of the garden behind her wearing a bracelet on her wrist, rings on her fingers and a smile on her face and absolutely nothing else.
He returned her smile and then his eyes began to view her in detail beginning with her ginger tresses, streaked with gold from the sun which he followed as they hung down to her naked plump white breasts, adorned with pale pink nipples.
They then travelled down over the topography of her white flesh, from her pronounced ribs, flat belly, narrow waist, and bony hips until they settled on the ginger tuft of pubic hair pointing the way to the gap between her skinny thighs.
“So I can see” he replied still holding the wine glasses, and then she began to walk towards him.
Well if the vision of her standing naked had mesmerised him it was nothing in comparison to the view of the naked Wendy when she set her gorgeous body in motion.
She walked slowly and deliberately getting the maximum movement into each delicious step, making her skinny hips roll which in turn made her plump little tits move in unison. By the time she reached him his mouth was open and his arousal was stirring in his shorts.
Wendy dealt with both of these things in turn, first by putting her mouth over his and invading it with her eager tongue, and with the second by wrestling it from his shorts and gently pulling on it.
Tom was unable to prevent either of these actions as he was still holding a glass of rapidly warming wine in each hand, not that he wanted to.
As her bony fingers stroked along the length of his bone she removed her mouth from his and gave him a broad confident smile before sinking to her knees where her beautiful smile enveloped his swollen organ.
After some prolonged and expert ministration to his cock she was again on her feet in front of him with the same confident smile on her face.
Wendy relieved him of one of the wine glasses and drained it and said
“You can join in now”
Tom took her by the hand and put his glass down on the table as he led her into the house.
His intent was to bed her upstairs but Wendy intervened and pushed him onto the sofa where she climbed on his lap and impaled her ginger pussy on him.
(Part 03)
Tom felt faintly ridiculous having a 23 year old girlfriend and had a feeling of extreme amazement and delight, though more amazement if he was completely honest.
His wife Mary would have laughed like a drain if she could have seen him with a girl she would have considered a child, he really missed Mary.
The sex with Wendy was amazing and made his toes curl and also made his cock stir just to think about it and without wanting to be disloyal to his late wife’s memory it was probably the best sex he’d ever had, no that wasn’t true it was definitely the best sex he had ever had or was ever likely to have.
She was supple, agile and pliable in fact she was really quite exceptionally bendy, he even called her bendy Wendy, and she had near inexhaustible stamina.
But even though Wendy was as horny as hell and a more than accomplished sexual partner she was unfortunately duller than ditch water.
She was “fun” to be with when he was benefiting from her expertise, but her company wasn’t stimulating other than in the obvious way.
Any red bloodied man not in his position would have thought him quite mad for wanting to end it.
But she had no conversation and was the very definition of vacuous.
Gorgeous, sexy, horny as hell and truly accomplished in the sexual arts, but as dumb as a stick.
The truth was that Wendy did not meet all his needs other than the physical.
What Tom wanted was someone like his wife, someone who loved him and who he could love and more importantly talk too.
Someone who knew that Muffin the Mule wasn’t a sexual offence, someone who didn’t think Mr Pastry was a 1960 version of Paul Hollywood and a woman who remembered a time when you had to get up to change the TV channel.
Wendy was not the answer to this want.
Nor could she fill his desire for some nice gentle love making and an affectionate cuddle, some grown up conversation.
Wendy was not someone he could fall asleep in front of the TV with so he decided to end it.
He went outside to break the news to Wendy but when he saw her in the garden squatting naked by the side of the ornamental fish pond Tom thought to himself “ok just one more fuck then”
Friday, 31 March 2017
Thursday, 30 March 2017
Choice Tales from the Vale – (016) The Accidental Cougar
(Part 01)
Yvonne Maher lived alone in a large detached Georgian house in a well-heeled leafy corner of Shallowfield and it was a bright early autumn morning when she lay cosily beneath her duvet and reflected on what had been a very interesting and eventful summer.
Yvonne was over fifty, only just over, but none the less she was the wrong side of that particular milestone and she was divorced to boot.
But she wasn’t a lonely divorcee because Yvonne had a wide circle of friends.
She also had a younger lover, more than 25 years younger to be precise which she supposed made her a cougar.
Yvonne had just come through a rather bitter divorce when they met, not that she was heartbroken by the ordeal or needed picking up from it.
In fact she didn’t mind being divorced, she hardly ever saw her husband Graham when they were together anyway, he was always on the golf course or in the 19th or more often than not he was in his secretary.
But when she met her young lover, Philip, it opened her eyes and showed her that she was still an attractive woman, still a sexy woman, still a desirable woman and her ex-husband Graham never appreciated that.
Her lover was her next door neighbour’s son, 25 years old with the body of an Adonis, a brain the size of an avocado and a cock that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Shetland pony.
She was immensely flattered to still attract male attention at her age, she had had so little attention paid to her by her ex-husband that she had forgotten how attractive she was and Philip was very attentive, very considerate and extremely vigorous.
A session with him was like Zumba and Pilates combined with mild electrocution.
After a weekend with him she was quite literally shagged out and needed the best part of a week to recover.
Not that she wanted to seem ungrateful, as many women in her position, or positions, would have been quite envious if she’d ever told anyone about him and what he did to her and how often, they certainly would not have been sympathetic if she enlightened them.
After all there was a lot to be said for being orgasmed to the point of unconsciousness at any age.
It was just that sometimes she would have been quite happy with an early night and a cuddle.
If her affair with Philip went on too long she wasn’t at all sure that his vital and sustained attention wouldn’t shag her into an early grave.
Plus the fact she was no teenager anymore and getting ready for a date that would end with her being stripped naked and well and truly ravished took a lot longer than it used to do.
As a teen, a squirt of perfume and some lippy and she was good to go.
Now she needed 24 hours’ notice a good night sleep and five hours to prepare.
At the time she met Philip she wasn’t looking for a man of any description and she certainly wasn’t looking for a toy boy she hadn’t even asked to have her grass cut so she truly was an accidental Cougar.
And it all began one early summer’s day when Philips mother Emily volunteered her Estate Agent son to spend his day off cutting her not insubstantial lawns.
(Part 02)
It was a very hot day which got all the hotter for Yvonne when Philip took off his shirt and his muscular well-toned torso glistened with sweat.
By the end of the day she was at boiling point and he had finished all the lawns and was ready to abandon his horticultural endeavours and focus his prowess towards attending to her bush.
Yvonne was in the kitchen getting him some water when he walked up behind her and slipped his hands inside her top, before she could even protest he had un-cupped her breasts and then she didn’t want to protest anymore.
Yvonne was still holding the glass in one hand and the other was on the tap which was still running.
She was unable to complete the simple task she was performing because his big hands were fondling her breasts and was powerless to resist, she knew it was wrong but she hadn’t had a man’s hands on her for two years and all she could do was hope he didn’t stop.
So Yvonne actually sighed as his hand left her breast but then she gasped as it unbuttoned her shorts.
She closed her eyes as he began to tug the zip down slowly inch by inch and as his fingertips slipped beneath the waistband of her silk panties to go where no hand but hers had been for more than two years her knees buckled and she dropped the glass in the sink.
But Philips left arm wrapped around her body and supported her weight as his fingers invaded her wet crease and she moaned coarsely and he continued to support her while his fingers quickly brought her to the brink.
Still supporting her upper body Philip took a step backwards and Yvonne’s inability to relinquish her grip on the tap forced her to bend at the waist leaving her poised invitingly for the eager youth.
Her shorts had already fallen to her knees during his frantic fingering and with a deft hand movement Philips ensured her silk knickers joined them.
He then debagged himself and poised for the briefest moment to admire Mrs Maher’s plump arse and bejewelled pussy before plunging into her and then banging her into oblivion.
That early summer afternoon rogering was the first of many such occasions when she was on the receiving end of his huge cock.
But as Yvonne lay beneath her duvet on an Autumnal morning she wondered if it was worth it, well obviously when he was in her up to his balls vigorously attending to her it was clearly worth it.
After all sex with Philip, although really marvellous, was also very exhausting.
What she really wanted was someone of her own age, who could still get her wet but who would appreciate her for what she was when she wasn’t glammed up, someone she could be herself with.
Not that useless article of an ex-husband though, someone kind and considerate.
What Philip had done more than anything that summer, apart from skewer her repeatedly, was to remind her how much she enjoyed sex and once she had tasted the sweet sensual nectar of lust once again she had an appetite for it that she needed to quench.
So as she lay beneath the duvet she made an important decision, she wouldn’t see Philip again, because his stamina really could have been the death of her.
So she would instead seek out a less vigorous partner or even partners.
And with the momentous decision made she snuggled down beneath the duvet and availed herself of a cheeky finger.
Yvonne Maher lived alone in a large detached Georgian house in a well-heeled leafy corner of Shallowfield and it was a bright early autumn morning when she lay cosily beneath her duvet and reflected on what had been a very interesting and eventful summer.
Yvonne was over fifty, only just over, but none the less she was the wrong side of that particular milestone and she was divorced to boot.
But she wasn’t a lonely divorcee because Yvonne had a wide circle of friends.
She also had a younger lover, more than 25 years younger to be precise which she supposed made her a cougar.
Yvonne had just come through a rather bitter divorce when they met, not that she was heartbroken by the ordeal or needed picking up from it.
In fact she didn’t mind being divorced, she hardly ever saw her husband Graham when they were together anyway, he was always on the golf course or in the 19th or more often than not he was in his secretary.
But when she met her young lover, Philip, it opened her eyes and showed her that she was still an attractive woman, still a sexy woman, still a desirable woman and her ex-husband Graham never appreciated that.
Her lover was her next door neighbour’s son, 25 years old with the body of an Adonis, a brain the size of an avocado and a cock that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Shetland pony.
She was immensely flattered to still attract male attention at her age, she had had so little attention paid to her by her ex-husband that she had forgotten how attractive she was and Philip was very attentive, very considerate and extremely vigorous.
A session with him was like Zumba and Pilates combined with mild electrocution.
After a weekend with him she was quite literally shagged out and needed the best part of a week to recover.
Not that she wanted to seem ungrateful, as many women in her position, or positions, would have been quite envious if she’d ever told anyone about him and what he did to her and how often, they certainly would not have been sympathetic if she enlightened them.
After all there was a lot to be said for being orgasmed to the point of unconsciousness at any age.
It was just that sometimes she would have been quite happy with an early night and a cuddle.
If her affair with Philip went on too long she wasn’t at all sure that his vital and sustained attention wouldn’t shag her into an early grave.
Plus the fact she was no teenager anymore and getting ready for a date that would end with her being stripped naked and well and truly ravished took a lot longer than it used to do.
As a teen, a squirt of perfume and some lippy and she was good to go.
Now she needed 24 hours’ notice a good night sleep and five hours to prepare.
At the time she met Philip she wasn’t looking for a man of any description and she certainly wasn’t looking for a toy boy she hadn’t even asked to have her grass cut so she truly was an accidental Cougar.
And it all began one early summer’s day when Philips mother Emily volunteered her Estate Agent son to spend his day off cutting her not insubstantial lawns.
(Part 02)
It was a very hot day which got all the hotter for Yvonne when Philip took off his shirt and his muscular well-toned torso glistened with sweat.
By the end of the day she was at boiling point and he had finished all the lawns and was ready to abandon his horticultural endeavours and focus his prowess towards attending to her bush.
Yvonne was in the kitchen getting him some water when he walked up behind her and slipped his hands inside her top, before she could even protest he had un-cupped her breasts and then she didn’t want to protest anymore.
Yvonne was still holding the glass in one hand and the other was on the tap which was still running.
She was unable to complete the simple task she was performing because his big hands were fondling her breasts and was powerless to resist, she knew it was wrong but she hadn’t had a man’s hands on her for two years and all she could do was hope he didn’t stop.
So Yvonne actually sighed as his hand left her breast but then she gasped as it unbuttoned her shorts.
She closed her eyes as he began to tug the zip down slowly inch by inch and as his fingertips slipped beneath the waistband of her silk panties to go where no hand but hers had been for more than two years her knees buckled and she dropped the glass in the sink.
But Philips left arm wrapped around her body and supported her weight as his fingers invaded her wet crease and she moaned coarsely and he continued to support her while his fingers quickly brought her to the brink.
Still supporting her upper body Philip took a step backwards and Yvonne’s inability to relinquish her grip on the tap forced her to bend at the waist leaving her poised invitingly for the eager youth.
Her shorts had already fallen to her knees during his frantic fingering and with a deft hand movement Philips ensured her silk knickers joined them.
He then debagged himself and poised for the briefest moment to admire Mrs Maher’s plump arse and bejewelled pussy before plunging into her and then banging her into oblivion.
That early summer afternoon rogering was the first of many such occasions when she was on the receiving end of his huge cock.
But as Yvonne lay beneath her duvet on an Autumnal morning she wondered if it was worth it, well obviously when he was in her up to his balls vigorously attending to her it was clearly worth it.
After all sex with Philip, although really marvellous, was also very exhausting.
What she really wanted was someone of her own age, who could still get her wet but who would appreciate her for what she was when she wasn’t glammed up, someone she could be herself with.
Not that useless article of an ex-husband though, someone kind and considerate.
What Philip had done more than anything that summer, apart from skewer her repeatedly, was to remind her how much she enjoyed sex and once she had tasted the sweet sensual nectar of lust once again she had an appetite for it that she needed to quench.
So as she lay beneath the duvet she made an important decision, she wouldn’t see Philip again, because his stamina really could have been the death of her.
So she would instead seek out a less vigorous partner or even partners.
And with the momentous decision made she snuggled down beneath the duvet and availed herself of a cheeky finger.
Wednesday, 29 March 2017
Choice Tales from the Vale – (015) Birthday Girl’s
Emanuela Petrescu and Catarina Langella lived together in a two bedroom flat above a parade of shops in Childean and apart from the fact they were both 27 years old and female they had absolutely nothing in common at all.
Emanuela was Romanian and was a doctor at the Winston Churchil Hospital and Caterina was Italian and was a hairdresser at Mazzone’s in the parade of shops she lived above.
They liked different food, listened to different music and wore different clothes.
The flat was owned by Mazzone’s and Caterina and another girl from the shop, Isabella, split the rent but when Izzy got married it left Cat in a hole, so she put an advert in the Chronicle and Ema was the only applicant and apart from the fact they were complete opposites they had lived together for 18 months and it had worked out perfectly.
Ema was tall and slender with brown hair and dark eyes and she made Caterina cross because she didn’t make the best of what she had, she didn’t go overboard with makeup and wore clothes that she was comfortable in rather than what made her look good.
Caterina had less to work with, she was shorter, plainer and chubbier than her flatmate with mousy hair and a big nose but she always looked immaculate, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Ema.
Not that Caterina was aware of that until the day after her birthday.
Emanuela had been on call at the Churchill on Cats birthday and had been out after work for a leaving party and as a result she had come home in a taxi slightly the worse for drink.
Caterina was in the bath when she returned and when she came out she was wearing a towelling bathrobe and a towel turban on her head.
On seeing her flatmate all freshly scrubbed and pink Emanuela immediately rushed towards her.
“Happy birthday draga mea” she said and threw her arms around Caterina exaggeratedly and hugged her
“Thanks Ema” she replied and hugged her back
Emanuela however didn’t release her grip on the little mousy Italian girl and in addition began nuzzling her neck.
Caterina felt a little awkward but didn’t really understand what she was doing, that is until she started chewing her earlobe.
“I don’t...” she began but in response Ema’s lips were over hers and her tongue immediately explored her flat mate’s mouth.
Caterina was shocked as she had never been kissed by a girl before and she certainly didn’t expect it from Ema and as far as she was aware she had given her no encouragement or indication that she was that way inclined, which she wasn’t.
But despite all of that Catarina still found her tongue was exploring Ema’s mouth with equal enthusiasm, and encouraged by her response Ema untied the belt on Catarina’s robe.
Cats mind was in a turmoil, she wanted to stop but she couldn’t, all of her life Sex had always left her cold, and unmoved with no heat or passion but after Ema had delivered Sappho’s kiss she was on fire.
She had always put down her indifference to the act to a low sex drive but as she and her flat mate embraced she wondered if in reality if she could have been driving in the wrong direction, was it conceivable that the secret of her sexuality was finally unlocked.
It was the first time she had felt such a kiss, the first time she’d felt that way in response to a kiss, but it had never occurred to her that she might be gay.
“Nonsense” she said in her head “I like George Clooney”
Yet her tongue still busied itself inside Ema’s mouth and her hands were inside Caterina’s robe and then those hands fondled her breasts and all thought of protestations were dispelled from her mind.
With a hand on each breast Emanuela pushed her back against the wall and withdrew her tongue from Catarina’s mouth and pulled her lips away, but Cat’s lips pursued Ema’s mouth like a hungry bird.
But Ema eluded her as her mouth had another goal and began kissing her freshly bathed skin, smelling of coconut, beginning at her neck with kisses as soft as a butterflies wings, down her chest, and then she kissed her breasts.
Caterina bit her lip in anticipation as Emanuela tongue was flicking around her nipples until that delicious moment when she took her pink proud nipple in her mouth and head was swimming and her legs trembled and when she felt Emanuelas hands on her naked buttocks they buckled and she slid down the wall.
Emanuela reluctantly relinquished her nipple and rolled her onto the floor and went to work on the other one.
Catarina layback with her eyes closed and her mouth open in anticipation of the moment she longed for and when she felt Emanuelas un-manicured fingers brushing lightly across her damp mousy bush she gasped and when those unfeminine fingers touched her intimate femininity in loves sweetest caress she emitted a moan akin to a purr and she finally knew her true self.
Emanuela was Romanian and was a doctor at the Winston Churchil Hospital and Caterina was Italian and was a hairdresser at Mazzone’s in the parade of shops she lived above.
They liked different food, listened to different music and wore different clothes.
The flat was owned by Mazzone’s and Caterina and another girl from the shop, Isabella, split the rent but when Izzy got married it left Cat in a hole, so she put an advert in the Chronicle and Ema was the only applicant and apart from the fact they were complete opposites they had lived together for 18 months and it had worked out perfectly.
Ema was tall and slender with brown hair and dark eyes and she made Caterina cross because she didn’t make the best of what she had, she didn’t go overboard with makeup and wore clothes that she was comfortable in rather than what made her look good.
Caterina had less to work with, she was shorter, plainer and chubbier than her flatmate with mousy hair and a big nose but she always looked immaculate, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Ema.
Not that Caterina was aware of that until the day after her birthday.
Emanuela had been on call at the Churchill on Cats birthday and had been out after work for a leaving party and as a result she had come home in a taxi slightly the worse for drink.
Caterina was in the bath when she returned and when she came out she was wearing a towelling bathrobe and a towel turban on her head.
On seeing her flatmate all freshly scrubbed and pink Emanuela immediately rushed towards her.
“Happy birthday draga mea” she said and threw her arms around Caterina exaggeratedly and hugged her
“Thanks Ema” she replied and hugged her back
Emanuela however didn’t release her grip on the little mousy Italian girl and in addition began nuzzling her neck.
Caterina felt a little awkward but didn’t really understand what she was doing, that is until she started chewing her earlobe.
“I don’t...” she began but in response Ema’s lips were over hers and her tongue immediately explored her flat mate’s mouth.
Caterina was shocked as she had never been kissed by a girl before and she certainly didn’t expect it from Ema and as far as she was aware she had given her no encouragement or indication that she was that way inclined, which she wasn’t.
But despite all of that Catarina still found her tongue was exploring Ema’s mouth with equal enthusiasm, and encouraged by her response Ema untied the belt on Catarina’s robe.
Cats mind was in a turmoil, she wanted to stop but she couldn’t, all of her life Sex had always left her cold, and unmoved with no heat or passion but after Ema had delivered Sappho’s kiss she was on fire.
She had always put down her indifference to the act to a low sex drive but as she and her flat mate embraced she wondered if in reality if she could have been driving in the wrong direction, was it conceivable that the secret of her sexuality was finally unlocked.
It was the first time she had felt such a kiss, the first time she’d felt that way in response to a kiss, but it had never occurred to her that she might be gay.
“Nonsense” she said in her head “I like George Clooney”
Yet her tongue still busied itself inside Ema’s mouth and her hands were inside Caterina’s robe and then those hands fondled her breasts and all thought of protestations were dispelled from her mind.
With a hand on each breast Emanuela pushed her back against the wall and withdrew her tongue from Catarina’s mouth and pulled her lips away, but Cat’s lips pursued Ema’s mouth like a hungry bird.
But Ema eluded her as her mouth had another goal and began kissing her freshly bathed skin, smelling of coconut, beginning at her neck with kisses as soft as a butterflies wings, down her chest, and then she kissed her breasts.
Caterina bit her lip in anticipation as Emanuela tongue was flicking around her nipples until that delicious moment when she took her pink proud nipple in her mouth and head was swimming and her legs trembled and when she felt Emanuelas hands on her naked buttocks they buckled and she slid down the wall.
Emanuela reluctantly relinquished her nipple and rolled her onto the floor and went to work on the other one.
Catarina layback with her eyes closed and her mouth open in anticipation of the moment she longed for and when she felt Emanuelas un-manicured fingers brushing lightly across her damp mousy bush she gasped and when those unfeminine fingers touched her intimate femininity in loves sweetest caress she emitted a moan akin to a purr and she finally knew her true self.
Tuesday, 28 March 2017
Choice Tales from the Vale – (014) An Innocent Voyeur
(Part 01)
It was a hot sultry summer afternoon in the village of Sharping St Mary, only a few miles from Purplemere, and only that morning 20 year old Caroline Danville had returned to her home from University.
Although she had actually left University a month earlier she had spent that month with her mother and stepfather in Bushy Down.
She was supposed to be there for another two days but her stepfather Graham had begun to get on her nerves, not that she disliked him or anything like that, he was harmless enough he was just a bit of a fusser and she didn’t like to be fussed over.
So Carrie, as she was known to everyone, had left early and was sitting in a quiet corner of the garden, in a shady and secluded spot.
She preferred the shade and couldn’t abide the sun, and it wasn’t overly fond of her.
She had pale ginger hair and fair delicate skin to accompany it, so she could either keep herself covered up or stay in the shade.
So she was laying on a picnic blanket in a bikini, hidden from view and lost in solitary thought.
Carrie had been out in the garden for a little under an hour when she noticed her stepmother Julie walk slowly across the lawn from the house, she liked Julie and she had liked her from the very beginning, she was younger than her dad but 15 years older than her and she had been her step mother for five years.
It was a very large garden with trees and shrubbery in abundance on three sides and a huge lawn in the centre where Julie spread out her blanket.
The garden being very private, and with her husband away on business and Carrie not due back until the weekend, Julie thought she was alone.
Carrie was about to shout “hello” but stopped herself when Julie slipped off her dress to stand naked on the lawn, with arms stretched above her head like a goddess and then she pirouetted like a ballerina, showing her magnificent well-toned and well-tanned body to the birds and the bee’s in her secluded surroundings.
Julie was a tall willowy woman with long legs and lithe limbs, her perfectly proportioned breasts moved delightfully as she continued to dance, celebrating her nakedness and offering herself to the sun.
Julie suddenly stopped her homage to Terpsichore and laughed as she ran her finger through her vibrant brunette hair, then she lay down on the blanket.
Carrie was again about to speak and make her presence known, but found herself unable, or unwilling, she was mesmerized by the tableaux that lay before her, and she found herself a little aroused.
Which surprised her greatly, not being so inclined, not being of that persuasion, not being a disciple of Sappho.
“What harm can it do?” she thought to herself, to look on with no fear of discovery.
Carrie was a reluctant voyeur but the opportunity presented itself and so she took it.
Where, was the harm in watching a beautiful woman sunbathe naked, it didn’t mean anything.
But then Julie started to touch and caress her nakedness.
(Part 02)
Julie started to touch and caress her nakedness, first her breasts, which caused Carrie to look away slightly embarrassed but her curiosity drew her back and her arousal heightened as she saw Julie’s long elegant fingers comb through her lush pubic curls and descend between her lips.
Carrie watched Julie’s busy fingers, spellbound and her arousal grew deeper with each stroke of her stepmother’s slender digits.
Carrie was so engaged by Julie’s erotic tableaux that she found her own fingers rubbing her own pussy through her bikini and when Julie’s body arched in climax Carrie let out an involuntary yet audible squeal.
Julie glanced over in her direction and their eyes met and Julie smiled while Carrie blushed.
Julie sat up and beckoned to Carrie in a wordless invitation to join her.
Carrie arose from her place of hiding and her legs felt weak as she walked tentatively to join her step mum and Julie was standing by the time Carrie reached her.
She was about to speak, to apologize for spying on her, for intruding on her privacy and for enjoying her intimacy, but Julie put a finger to Carrie’s lips to silence her, and Carrie could smell Julie’s musk upon it.
Julie’s hand then caressed Carries cheek and ran her slender fingers through Carrie’s fine Reddish Blonde hair and pulled her head towards her, and kissed her.
Carrie had never been kissed by a woman before and her first thought was to back away, but she couldn’t move, so as Julie’s lips grew closer she opened her mouth and received her step mothers tongue and for the first time Carrie enjoyed Sappho’s sweet kiss.
It was a kiss like no other kiss she had ever had, her boyfriend David never kissed her like that, and he had never made her knees go weak.
There were still no words between them only smiles when the kiss ended and Carrie offered no resistance when Julie removed her bikini top, exposing her pert little breasts and stiff pink nipples, nor did she flinch as Julie’s hands untied the strings of her bikini pants.
Julie took the garment in her hand and the moisture in the fabric and held it to her nose and inhaled Carrie’s sour scent.
Carrie looked to the ground and felt herself blush from head to toe which made Julie smile.
She dropped Carrie’s wet musky pants on the ground and then took hold of her hands and guided her onto the blanket.
“I’m not a lesbian” Carrie said
“Neither am I sweetie” she replied as she laid Carrie down on the rug where she kissed her.
First on the mouth hot and heavy then gentler on her neck, her chest, her breasts.
Julie dwelt upon her breasts and sucked slowly and deliberately on her swollen little nipples as Carrie was lying with her hand on her head and her eyes shut tight as the electricity of each of Julie’s kisses tingled through her young body.
Julie left Carrie’s stiff saliva soaked nipples and proceeded to kiss her way down to her quivering belly pausing only to flick her tongue into her navel which made her jump.
For the rest of Julie’s journey Carrie’s hands grabbed fistfuls of blanket and her tight young arse squirmed as she anticipated Julie’s ultimate destination.
And as Julie’s cheek brushed against her ginger bush Carrie parted her thighs so she could enjoy Sappho’s most intimate embrace.
It was a hot sultry summer afternoon in the village of Sharping St Mary, only a few miles from Purplemere, and only that morning 20 year old Caroline Danville had returned to her home from University.
Although she had actually left University a month earlier she had spent that month with her mother and stepfather in Bushy Down.
She was supposed to be there for another two days but her stepfather Graham had begun to get on her nerves, not that she disliked him or anything like that, he was harmless enough he was just a bit of a fusser and she didn’t like to be fussed over.
So Carrie, as she was known to everyone, had left early and was sitting in a quiet corner of the garden, in a shady and secluded spot.
She preferred the shade and couldn’t abide the sun, and it wasn’t overly fond of her.
She had pale ginger hair and fair delicate skin to accompany it, so she could either keep herself covered up or stay in the shade.
So she was laying on a picnic blanket in a bikini, hidden from view and lost in solitary thought.
Carrie had been out in the garden for a little under an hour when she noticed her stepmother Julie walk slowly across the lawn from the house, she liked Julie and she had liked her from the very beginning, she was younger than her dad but 15 years older than her and she had been her step mother for five years.
It was a very large garden with trees and shrubbery in abundance on three sides and a huge lawn in the centre where Julie spread out her blanket.
The garden being very private, and with her husband away on business and Carrie not due back until the weekend, Julie thought she was alone.
Carrie was about to shout “hello” but stopped herself when Julie slipped off her dress to stand naked on the lawn, with arms stretched above her head like a goddess and then she pirouetted like a ballerina, showing her magnificent well-toned and well-tanned body to the birds and the bee’s in her secluded surroundings.
Julie was a tall willowy woman with long legs and lithe limbs, her perfectly proportioned breasts moved delightfully as she continued to dance, celebrating her nakedness and offering herself to the sun.
Julie suddenly stopped her homage to Terpsichore and laughed as she ran her finger through her vibrant brunette hair, then she lay down on the blanket.
Carrie was again about to speak and make her presence known, but found herself unable, or unwilling, she was mesmerized by the tableaux that lay before her, and she found herself a little aroused.
Which surprised her greatly, not being so inclined, not being of that persuasion, not being a disciple of Sappho.
“What harm can it do?” she thought to herself, to look on with no fear of discovery.
Carrie was a reluctant voyeur but the opportunity presented itself and so she took it.
Where, was the harm in watching a beautiful woman sunbathe naked, it didn’t mean anything.
But then Julie started to touch and caress her nakedness.
(Part 02)
Julie started to touch and caress her nakedness, first her breasts, which caused Carrie to look away slightly embarrassed but her curiosity drew her back and her arousal heightened as she saw Julie’s long elegant fingers comb through her lush pubic curls and descend between her lips.
Carrie watched Julie’s busy fingers, spellbound and her arousal grew deeper with each stroke of her stepmother’s slender digits.
Carrie was so engaged by Julie’s erotic tableaux that she found her own fingers rubbing her own pussy through her bikini and when Julie’s body arched in climax Carrie let out an involuntary yet audible squeal.
Julie glanced over in her direction and their eyes met and Julie smiled while Carrie blushed.
Julie sat up and beckoned to Carrie in a wordless invitation to join her.
Carrie arose from her place of hiding and her legs felt weak as she walked tentatively to join her step mum and Julie was standing by the time Carrie reached her.
She was about to speak, to apologize for spying on her, for intruding on her privacy and for enjoying her intimacy, but Julie put a finger to Carrie’s lips to silence her, and Carrie could smell Julie’s musk upon it.
Julie’s hand then caressed Carries cheek and ran her slender fingers through Carrie’s fine Reddish Blonde hair and pulled her head towards her, and kissed her.
Carrie had never been kissed by a woman before and her first thought was to back away, but she couldn’t move, so as Julie’s lips grew closer she opened her mouth and received her step mothers tongue and for the first time Carrie enjoyed Sappho’s sweet kiss.
It was a kiss like no other kiss she had ever had, her boyfriend David never kissed her like that, and he had never made her knees go weak.
There were still no words between them only smiles when the kiss ended and Carrie offered no resistance when Julie removed her bikini top, exposing her pert little breasts and stiff pink nipples, nor did she flinch as Julie’s hands untied the strings of her bikini pants.
Julie took the garment in her hand and the moisture in the fabric and held it to her nose and inhaled Carrie’s sour scent.
Carrie looked to the ground and felt herself blush from head to toe which made Julie smile.
She dropped Carrie’s wet musky pants on the ground and then took hold of her hands and guided her onto the blanket.
“I’m not a lesbian” Carrie said
“Neither am I sweetie” she replied as she laid Carrie down on the rug where she kissed her.
First on the mouth hot and heavy then gentler on her neck, her chest, her breasts.
Julie dwelt upon her breasts and sucked slowly and deliberately on her swollen little nipples as Carrie was lying with her hand on her head and her eyes shut tight as the electricity of each of Julie’s kisses tingled through her young body.
Julie left Carrie’s stiff saliva soaked nipples and proceeded to kiss her way down to her quivering belly pausing only to flick her tongue into her navel which made her jump.
For the rest of Julie’s journey Carrie’s hands grabbed fistfuls of blanket and her tight young arse squirmed as she anticipated Julie’s ultimate destination.
And as Julie’s cheek brushed against her ginger bush Carrie parted her thighs so she could enjoy Sappho’s most intimate embrace.
Monday, 27 March 2017
Choice Tales from the Vale – (013) A Man to be Trusted
(Part 01)
“Take care of her?” said Winifred Hawkes-Holland as he opened the driver’s car door.
“Will do boss” Harry replied giving his passenger a wry smile as he got behind the wheel.
“I’m not a child,” Clare shouted petulantly out of the open window “and I don’t need babysitting”
It was certainly true to say that Clare Hawkes was not a child, far from it.
No one who ever saw the 25 years old would ever have described her as such, childish, possibly, but not a child.
After all Clare stood an inch short of six feet tall which was evidence of adulthood in itself but if that didn’t convince you then her long legs, voluminous rolling hips and a 44” bust would.
No, Clare was not a child, but her mother, as mothers always do, would always see her thus.
But Winifred Hawkes-Holland wasn’t merely Clare’s mother she was also her employer.
Holland brothers bought and sold Antiques and collectables, a business that Winifred married into and now Clare was going on her first solo-buying trip.
Even though technically she wasn’t going solo and it would have been her maiden trip but for the fact Harry Mortimer was sent with her as a babysitter.
Harry had been with the Holland’s since he left school and he was greatly trusted by Win.
And as he was in his early forties and unremarkable looking and was to all and sundry average in all respects she trusted there would be no shenanigans.
Suffice is to say Winifred trusted her precious daughter was in safe hands with Harry Mortimer.
On the journey from Northern Downshire all the way down to Finchbottom, Clare was still berating Harry on her mother’s distrust of her.
“It’s not that she doesn’t trust you,” He said
“She doesn’t seem to realise that I’m a grown woman,” she continued
“We are all aware you are a grown woman” Harry said and after pause added
“Well aware”
Clare looked at him and raised her eye brows
“So what have you noticed?” she asked with amusement
Harry blushed to his roots under her gaze
“Nnnnothing” he stammered
“Come on Harry” she pressed
“Just that I have noticed that you are no longer a child” he replied
The rest of the journey passed largely in silence with Clare admiring the countryside while occasionally sneaking glances at her driver.
They stopped that night at the White Horse Inn in Finchbottom and spent the evening in the restaurant where Clare drank more than was good for her.
Harry thought she had been in a strange mood since the journey down and kept looking at him in a funny way.
But Clare was drinking too much, and she was flirting and he had never seen her do that before, and he couldn’t let it continue.
If he did, her mother would not consider that “Taking care of her”
“Come on party girl” he said “bedtime”
“Oh goody” she said draining her glass
Accompanied by outrageous flirting and downright suggestive behaviour Harry steered her up the stairs
“Up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire” he said and when they reached the top he headed towards her room at the end of the corridor.
(Part 02)
When they got to her door Clare announced
“Honey! I’m home”
Harry propped her against the doorframe as he unlocked the door and she began kissing his neck.
“Behave yourself” he said and gave her a playful slap on her bum.
“Oooh are you going to spank me Harry?” she asked
“Get in there young lady” he said and guided her through the door
“I love it when you’re all masterful” Clare responded and wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him.
Harry managed to avoid her lips at the last second as the door slammed shut behind them and they performed a strange ungracious waltz into the room.
“Here we are young lady,” he said as he prepared to lower her onto the bed
“Bedfordshire” Clare said gleefully, and span Harry around then pushed him backwards onto the bed and she kicked off her shoes and jumped on top of him.
Harry began to protest but her soft lips and hot mouth clamped over his and her tongue was like a serpent.
Harry’s resistance lasted less than a minute, after all he had dreamt of that moment since she was 17.
His hands began to claw the shirt free of her waistband and then with great urgency she sat upright and pulled the shirt off over her head and threw it aside.
Her hands trembled as her fingers fumbled at his shirt buttons but when she had accomplished her task she ran her fingers through the hairs on his chest.
And those same trembling hands that caressed his flesh went behind her back and unhooked her bra.
Harry was looking at her face while her hands were on his chest but the moment her hands began unfastening her bra his eyes stared at her harnessed breasts and as the tension around them relaxed he reached up and pulled the bra off and discarded it and revelled at the sight of Clare’s great round breasts then she leant forward and delivered them into his waiting hands and her mouth returned to his.
Her breasts were rising and falling and Harry could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her kissing became more intense.
She sat up again and hurriedly undid his trousers and then climbed off him and dragged his trousers and pants off.
Harry raised himself up onto his elbows as Clare wriggled out of her jeans and then tantalizing slipped off her panties to reveal a neatly clipped triangle of black hair.
And when she climbed back on him she didn’t hesitate for a second before expertly enveloping Harry’s shaft with her welcoming wetness.
Clare was on him and he was at her mercy as she rose and fell on him and on each fall Harry grunted his appreciation as his hands groped her buttocks.
As Clare raised the tempo her panting came in coarse rasping breaths, each one coarser and more guttural than the one preceding it, until she cried out in orgasm.
After Clare had ridden Harry to an exhausting climax, the sweating panting beast with her raven black hair in wild disarray and eyes wide with primal lust smiled a smile of lasciviousness.
“Do you think this is what your mum meant when she said, “Take care of her”?” Harry asked
“Oh yes I think so” she said “and when you recover you can “take care of me” again”
And Harry took care of her every day they were on the road and on future trips Clare always insisted on having her babysitter with her in order to “Take care of her”.
“Take care of her?” said Winifred Hawkes-Holland as he opened the driver’s car door.
“Will do boss” Harry replied giving his passenger a wry smile as he got behind the wheel.
“I’m not a child,” Clare shouted petulantly out of the open window “and I don’t need babysitting”
It was certainly true to say that Clare Hawkes was not a child, far from it.
No one who ever saw the 25 years old would ever have described her as such, childish, possibly, but not a child.
After all Clare stood an inch short of six feet tall which was evidence of adulthood in itself but if that didn’t convince you then her long legs, voluminous rolling hips and a 44” bust would.
No, Clare was not a child, but her mother, as mothers always do, would always see her thus.
But Winifred Hawkes-Holland wasn’t merely Clare’s mother she was also her employer.
Holland brothers bought and sold Antiques and collectables, a business that Winifred married into and now Clare was going on her first solo-buying trip.
Even though technically she wasn’t going solo and it would have been her maiden trip but for the fact Harry Mortimer was sent with her as a babysitter.
Harry had been with the Holland’s since he left school and he was greatly trusted by Win.
And as he was in his early forties and unremarkable looking and was to all and sundry average in all respects she trusted there would be no shenanigans.
Suffice is to say Winifred trusted her precious daughter was in safe hands with Harry Mortimer.
On the journey from Northern Downshire all the way down to Finchbottom, Clare was still berating Harry on her mother’s distrust of her.
“It’s not that she doesn’t trust you,” He said
“She doesn’t seem to realise that I’m a grown woman,” she continued
“We are all aware you are a grown woman” Harry said and after pause added
“Well aware”
Clare looked at him and raised her eye brows
“So what have you noticed?” she asked with amusement
Harry blushed to his roots under her gaze
“Nnnnothing” he stammered
“Come on Harry” she pressed
“Just that I have noticed that you are no longer a child” he replied
The rest of the journey passed largely in silence with Clare admiring the countryside while occasionally sneaking glances at her driver.
They stopped that night at the White Horse Inn in Finchbottom and spent the evening in the restaurant where Clare drank more than was good for her.
Harry thought she had been in a strange mood since the journey down and kept looking at him in a funny way.
But Clare was drinking too much, and she was flirting and he had never seen her do that before, and he couldn’t let it continue.
If he did, her mother would not consider that “Taking care of her”
“Come on party girl” he said “bedtime”
“Oh goody” she said draining her glass
Accompanied by outrageous flirting and downright suggestive behaviour Harry steered her up the stairs
“Up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire” he said and when they reached the top he headed towards her room at the end of the corridor.
(Part 02)
When they got to her door Clare announced
“Honey! I’m home”
Harry propped her against the doorframe as he unlocked the door and she began kissing his neck.
“Behave yourself” he said and gave her a playful slap on her bum.
“Oooh are you going to spank me Harry?” she asked
“Get in there young lady” he said and guided her through the door
“I love it when you’re all masterful” Clare responded and wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him.
Harry managed to avoid her lips at the last second as the door slammed shut behind them and they performed a strange ungracious waltz into the room.
“Here we are young lady,” he said as he prepared to lower her onto the bed
“Bedfordshire” Clare said gleefully, and span Harry around then pushed him backwards onto the bed and she kicked off her shoes and jumped on top of him.
Harry began to protest but her soft lips and hot mouth clamped over his and her tongue was like a serpent.
Harry’s resistance lasted less than a minute, after all he had dreamt of that moment since she was 17.
His hands began to claw the shirt free of her waistband and then with great urgency she sat upright and pulled the shirt off over her head and threw it aside.
Her hands trembled as her fingers fumbled at his shirt buttons but when she had accomplished her task she ran her fingers through the hairs on his chest.
And those same trembling hands that caressed his flesh went behind her back and unhooked her bra.
Harry was looking at her face while her hands were on his chest but the moment her hands began unfastening her bra his eyes stared at her harnessed breasts and as the tension around them relaxed he reached up and pulled the bra off and discarded it and revelled at the sight of Clare’s great round breasts then she leant forward and delivered them into his waiting hands and her mouth returned to his.
Her breasts were rising and falling and Harry could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her kissing became more intense.
She sat up again and hurriedly undid his trousers and then climbed off him and dragged his trousers and pants off.
Harry raised himself up onto his elbows as Clare wriggled out of her jeans and then tantalizing slipped off her panties to reveal a neatly clipped triangle of black hair.
And when she climbed back on him she didn’t hesitate for a second before expertly enveloping Harry’s shaft with her welcoming wetness.
Clare was on him and he was at her mercy as she rose and fell on him and on each fall Harry grunted his appreciation as his hands groped her buttocks.
As Clare raised the tempo her panting came in coarse rasping breaths, each one coarser and more guttural than the one preceding it, until she cried out in orgasm.
After Clare had ridden Harry to an exhausting climax, the sweating panting beast with her raven black hair in wild disarray and eyes wide with primal lust smiled a smile of lasciviousness.
“Do you think this is what your mum meant when she said, “Take care of her”?” Harry asked
“Oh yes I think so” she said “and when you recover you can “take care of me” again”
And Harry took care of her every day they were on the road and on future trips Clare always insisted on having her babysitter with her in order to “Take care of her”.
Sunday, 26 March 2017
Choice Tales from the Vale – (012) The Lady in the Black Dress
It was a beautiful moonlit night at the Midsummers Eve Ball and just before midnight Luke Martin was enjoying an illicit cigar on the East Terrace of the Great Hall.
The reason he chose that particular place to smoke was because it was the furthest from the ballroom and therefore the furthest away from his wife’s disapproving eye.
But that wasn’t the only reason he always sought out that spot.
He also went there to be alone because he rarely saw another soul, and he liked that, he liked the solitude, and he liked to enjoy his smoke in peace.
He looked up at the hunter’s moon hanging in the clear night sky as he exhaled the mellow smoke long and slow, which was when his peace was broken by the clip clop of stiletto heels on the flagstones.
He was just about to lambast the intruder for invading his retreat but when he turned to look at the source of his annoyance, he saw it was the girl in the black dress or more precisely the Lady in the black dress, Lady Samantha Lyndon-Sanders.
The black dress in question was a full length evening dress which fitted her every contour and even in the moonlight it was patently obvious that she was completely naked beneath it.
“Hello Luke” she said “I thought I’d find you here”
“And you were looking for me why?” he said impatiently
Luke had known Lady Sam for several years and had always fancied her but he was a bit short with her because he just wanted to smoke his cigar in peace.
“Oh I just fancied a smoke” Lady Samantha replied falsely
“I’d like to know where you have your cigarettes hidden” he said looking her slowly up and down and the only things he located were her proud nipples.
“I don’t have any” she replied “as you can see well enough”
“I would have to agree that what I can see poking through your dress are not cigarette” he said
“No they’re not” she agreed “So I’ll share yours”
Lady Samantha stood very close to him as she took the cigar from his hand and took a long drag on it which Luke found strangely arousing.
They stood on the terrace in the moonlight together and smoked the stogey to a stub and Luke flicked it into the night.
“Well what do we do now?” she said “The night is young”
But before Luke could answer she began kissing him passionately on the mouth which he instantly reciprocated while his hands caressed every inch of her his hands could reach, and as his hands confirmed Lady Samantha’s lack of underwear, her hand pulled down his zip fly and expertly extracted the evidence of his arousal through the opening so her evening gloved hand could proceed to tug gently on his shaft.
Lady Samantha stopped kissing him and smiled as she continued tugging on his cock, then she dropped to her knees and eagerly took him in her mouth.
Luke stood on the patio in the moonlight as Lady Sam consumed him expertly and with relish until he exploded in her mouth.
“Wow” he said as he zipped up his fly “That was the best smoke I ever had”
“Wait until next time” Lady Samantha said getting to her feet and brushing the dirt off her knees.
“You can have the rest of me when there’s no cotton mouse in the way”
“I’ll look forward to it” he said
“And so you should” she responded and kissed him and then clip clopped back to the Ball.
The reason he chose that particular place to smoke was because it was the furthest from the ballroom and therefore the furthest away from his wife’s disapproving eye.
But that wasn’t the only reason he always sought out that spot.
He also went there to be alone because he rarely saw another soul, and he liked that, he liked the solitude, and he liked to enjoy his smoke in peace.
He looked up at the hunter’s moon hanging in the clear night sky as he exhaled the mellow smoke long and slow, which was when his peace was broken by the clip clop of stiletto heels on the flagstones.
He was just about to lambast the intruder for invading his retreat but when he turned to look at the source of his annoyance, he saw it was the girl in the black dress or more precisely the Lady in the black dress, Lady Samantha Lyndon-Sanders.
The black dress in question was a full length evening dress which fitted her every contour and even in the moonlight it was patently obvious that she was completely naked beneath it.
“Hello Luke” she said “I thought I’d find you here”
“And you were looking for me why?” he said impatiently
Luke had known Lady Sam for several years and had always fancied her but he was a bit short with her because he just wanted to smoke his cigar in peace.
“Oh I just fancied a smoke” Lady Samantha replied falsely
“I’d like to know where you have your cigarettes hidden” he said looking her slowly up and down and the only things he located were her proud nipples.
“I don’t have any” she replied “as you can see well enough”
“I would have to agree that what I can see poking through your dress are not cigarette” he said
“No they’re not” she agreed “So I’ll share yours”
Lady Samantha stood very close to him as she took the cigar from his hand and took a long drag on it which Luke found strangely arousing.
They stood on the terrace in the moonlight together and smoked the stogey to a stub and Luke flicked it into the night.
“Well what do we do now?” she said “The night is young”
But before Luke could answer she began kissing him passionately on the mouth which he instantly reciprocated while his hands caressed every inch of her his hands could reach, and as his hands confirmed Lady Samantha’s lack of underwear, her hand pulled down his zip fly and expertly extracted the evidence of his arousal through the opening so her evening gloved hand could proceed to tug gently on his shaft.
Lady Samantha stopped kissing him and smiled as she continued tugging on his cock, then she dropped to her knees and eagerly took him in her mouth.
Luke stood on the patio in the moonlight as Lady Sam consumed him expertly and with relish until he exploded in her mouth.
“Wow” he said as he zipped up his fly “That was the best smoke I ever had”
“Wait until next time” Lady Samantha said getting to her feet and brushing the dirt off her knees.
“You can have the rest of me when there’s no cotton mouse in the way”
“I’ll look forward to it” he said
“And so you should” she responded and kissed him and then clip clopped back to the Ball.
Saturday, 25 March 2017
Choice Tales from the Vale – (011) A Woman of a Certain Age
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.
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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