Geoff and Marie’s Good Life: Part 13Appetites Vary.Diversity is a good thing.
Based on posts by Only In My Mind, in 15 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.
I
guided my friend through to join the women and helped him to the head
of the table. Megan sat to his right, Lucy to his left. I sat opposite
him, Marie to my right, Angie to my left. Rather than a traditional
Sunday roast, Megan had ordered a beef wellington with horseradish
mashed potatoes, and green vegetables sautéed in garlic butter. The
ladies were at ease in their near nudity; Angie having, just about,
covered her bare tits with some pointless scrap of translucent fabric.
The
men, well, we did them the courtesy of admiring them. The conversation
was surprisingly normal, by our standards at least. Lucy expressed her
gratitude at being offered a place to stay. She was a little overwhelmed
when Megan corrected her. Not a place to stay; a home.
I
shared the photo that Mike had sent me, showing Eddie with his new
friend. "He rejected Lucy for HER?" Was Charles' incredulous response.
Lucy was more sanguine. As far as she was concerned, Eddie had made his
preference clear. In her mind she was already single, with an entire
team of people willing to love her and a wealth of emotions that she
needed to set out on canvas. That thought also reminded her. The day we
christened her studio, she was determined to make a mold of my
genitalia, while I was erect.
"How many castings are you intending to make?" I asked, in all innocence.
"A
dozen or so in latex or silicone rubber for your Harem, or the Coven as
Marie refers to us." I shrugged. That seemed a lot but, what the hell.
She
fell silent for a moment, as though calculating. "And then I thought,
because it's such a nice shape, I'd do a limited edition of signed epoxy
castings, about a hundred, each numbered and with its own unique
marbled pattern."
Everyone
stopped eating and stared at her. "What?" She seemed defensive. "He
only has to make a squiggle. Not his actual name, for pity's sake." She
shook her head. "I was going to ask him if I could add a drop of his
semen into the epoxy to infuse it with his essence. I could double the
asking price then." She looked around the table at each of us in turn.
"Well, think about it, anyway," she suggested to my wife and I.
We
changed the subject to our plans for the wedding and returned to
enjoying our meal. For dessert there were individual warm pear
frangipanes with brandy ice cream. By the time we had finished, not a
helped to tidy the kitchen and, after sitting and chatting for a little
while longer, my three companions dressed and we left, making a short
diversion to return the restaurant's delivery boxes. I picked up their
home delivery menu on the way out. I was mortified; our meal must have
cost our hosts over three hundred pounds. My 'expensive' wine from M and
S seemed a bit pathetic by comparison.
As
we drove home, they discussed, without inviting input from me, my plans
for the evening. Apparently, while I pleasured each of them
individually in my bed, the other two would discuss the details of our
wedding ceremony. We hadn't decided on a date but we needed to have the
costumes selected very soon so that we could give the students who were
making the outfits the design brief for each guest for their
course-work. Lucy was intrigued at the idea of creating some scenic
backdrops for the venue as well as helping with prop design. I was
content to be well out of it.
I'd
swallowed one of my little chemical helpers as soon as we got home so,
leaving my wife and Lucy to look on-line for inspiration, Angie joined
me in bed. "Angie. I promised you a special treat if you earned it.
You've earned it today, with Charles. But tonight would you be
disappointed if we just made love? No toys, just you and me? Then we can
find enough time to really explore your kinky side."
"It's
a deal," she agreed, unbuttoning my shirt. "You, me and the toy box can
wait for another day. I'm okay if it's just the two of us for now."
I
helped off with her top and we kissed for a while, me savoring the feel
of her lace covered tits against my chest. In time, we wanted more so
we finished undressing ourselves and I led her to the bed. She sat me at
the edge and knelt between my thighs. "I'm doing this because I want
to," she reassured me. To be fair, I intended to return the favor,
because I also wanted to. Isn't it nice that we have balance in our
oral ministrations were affectionate rather than porn-worthy, intended
to show her love rather than display her ability to swallow my entire
cock. When she finally took me over the edge, there were no theatrics;
no swirling my cum in her mouth. She just quietly swallowed my sperm,
cleaned me and looked lovingly up at me. Angie is a complex character.
Strong, assertive, willful even. But behind that was a vulnerability, an
uncertainty in social interactions. But with Marie and I, she relaxed
her to her feet I made her swap places and I knelt in turn, between her
thighs. I repeated her own words to her before I leaned in to taste the
nectar between those lips. For ten full minutes I knelt there, kissing
her thighs, her mound; running my tongue along her labia and, briefly
now and again, tantalizing her clit.
As
soon as I felt myself harden again, I knew it was time. I stood up and
stretched (I'm fairly fit, but the years, and rugby, have taken their
toll) then joined her on the bed. We made ourselves comfortable, Angie
having decided she wanted 'snuggling' from behind. I indulged her. It
isn't the best position for vigorous sex. It isn't the most visually
stimulating; but, for screwing someone you love, it has a special
languorous intimacy that I cherish. There was no rush for us to climax.
My cock was perfectly content to slip slowly back and forth in Angie's
realized that I was getting close and started to use my hand on her
clit. She stopped me. "Take your time, Geoff," she murmured. "I've come
once already. This is nice as it is. You need to learn that sometimes we
need the intimacy as much as the orgasm."
I
think I understood. So, instead of our customary race to the finishing
line, we kept a slow, tender rhythm until I couldn't hold back any
longer and spurted inside her. "See," she murmured. "Wasn't that nice.
You came and I could just enjoy the experience without arsing about
having to fake an orgasm. This was much more satisfying."
We
lay for another ten minutes, just talking, before Angie left for the
bathroom. I got up and used the shared bathroom then, wearing just my
dressing gown, went downstairs. Marie and Lucy were studying our TV,
where Marie was casting the images of Star Wars costumes that people had
shown an interest in for our wedding. Lucy was trying to decide what
gave Marie a pointed look to suggest the it was her turn upstairs. She
shook her head. "Angela is going home tonight and Lucy tells me we're
dropping her off at her place. I'm happy to wait until bed-time."
Lucy
smiled and shook her head too. "If you want me, I'm yours. But I'm
content that I've had my ration for today. Tuesday, however, Marie will
be at the shop. Would that be a convenient time for you to model for
Now there was an innocent enough expression; slightly less so if you
prefixed it with the word, 'penis', for accuracy. Presumably, once the
casting was done, my erection wouldn't be allowed to go to waste. So,
two birds, one stone; cock casting and studio christening all in one
visit. Mr. Efficiency, that's me.
I
dressed and made us a light supper and we ate once Angie re-joined us.
At nine o'clock we left our planning session, having given Lucy some
ideas to work with, and I drove her home. Angela and Marie followed us.
We shared a bottle of wine, Angie sticking to the one glass, while Lucy
showed us the unfinished works in her studio. She pointed to a stack of
half a dozen propped against a wall. "I can't finish those," she
commented in a flat tone. "I started them while Eddie was pissing me
about, but my outlook has changed since, well, you know, and I'm in such
a different place now that I don't know where the next brush stroke
goes." She picked one up and examined it critically. "This isn't art,"
she decided. "This is an emotional breakdown on canvas." She made to
throw it away. I stopped her. She looked at me in surprise.
"It's an asset," I reminded her. "If Eddie gets a solicitor and he bids for a share of your works, give him these."
"But they aren't finished," she protested.
"Would Eddie know that?"
"No, but;”
"So,"
I pointed out, gently. "Keep them. If Eddie plays silly buggers and
demands a share of your work as marital assets, you can honestly say
these were painted while you were together, the judge would be impressed
and you unload these on Eddie."
"But they are shit," she argued.
"And where would Eddie go to unload this shit?"
Her
eyes widened. "The gallery in town," she gloated. "If Eddie tried to
sell them there, Carl, the owner, would check with me for the
provenance. I'd tell him the truth and he'd sell them off cheap as
unsigned, unfinished, unattributed works; he'd have to. Both to keep me
sweet and keep his reputation." The three women exchanged malicious
smiles. "I almost hope he tries it," she added. "I'd love to put one
over on him one last time."
We
stayed with her until ten, when she declared that it was time for us to
get away and for her to go to bed. Eddie was, fortunately for all of
us, still notable by his absence. We left, agreeing to return before
eleven the next morning, and Angie dropped Marie and me off on her way
home. The two of us followed Lucy's example and went straight to bed.
As
we cuddled up close, we each asked the other, almost in unison, "Are we
still okay?" The fact that we were both concerned more about our
spouse's feelings than our own, suggested that we were. Then my wife
slipped her nightie off and lay back down next to me. What followed
convinced me that we were fine.
The
next morning, Angie collected us after breakfast and we arrived at
Lucy's house about quarter to eleven. By then, the two guys in the van
had moved most of the boxes with her clothes out of her bedroom and were
starting to empty her studio. They refused our offer of help so we made
them a cup of tea and retired to the kitchen out of their way. We were
still there twenty minutes later when Megan arrived.
Accepting
a coffee from Lucy, Megan produced two brown, official looking,
envelopes from her bag. They were both addressed to Eddie. The first one
she held up had a large figure '1' in the top left corner. "This," she
explained. "Is Eddie's formal notice that you have begun divorce
proceedings and letting him know that, to comply with the legal
requirements, you are now living apart, effective from midnight
turned her attention to me. "I liked your suggestion that Lucy keeps
those depressing unsigned works to hand. We have included our proposals
for the fair division of assets and advised Eddie to seek his own legal
advice. If he gets greedy, we will have to try to agree a compromise or
go to court for a Financial Order. In either of those cases, those works
could come in useful."
She
held up the second envelope, appropriately enough with a figure '2' in
the corner. This document," she announced, cheerfully. "Informs your
soon-to-be ex-husband that you are waiving your right to occupy, granted
by the trust set up for Alison. Your daughter, the de-facto owner, has
retained me to act on her behalf to put it on the rental market."
She
gave a beatific smile that lit up the room. "As Lucy occupied under the
terms of the trust, there is no tenancy agreement. Eddie's name appears
on none of the utilities so, as far as Alison is concerned, he can pay
the commercial rental fee, and stay, or piss off and live with his
girlfriend. He certainly hasn't a leg to stand on if he thinks she'll
let him live here for free, now that Lucy has moved out."
"What
will you be asking for the rent?" I asked, just out of interest. She
told us. The rest of us sat, slack-jawed, gaping around the table at
each other. "How much?" I admit, my voice came out in a less than
masculine squeak. She repeated the figure. "That's more than the fucking
mortgage would be," I pointed out, then begged Megan to excuse my
Megan conceded, unperturbed by my profanity. "But a landlord has to
cover additional contingencies; electrical safety, insurance,
maintenance, management fees and the like." She shrugged. "We are
actually not stiffing Eddie. If he can't afford to pay, I guarantee
we'll have a family in here paying that per month, within three weeks of
taking possession."
"Eddie
can't afford that," Lucy observed, without satisfaction. "Even if he
stopped drinking and gambling, he'd barely be able to cover the rent.
He'd just about have pennies left to live on."
"That's
as may be," Megan replied, acerbically. "But much of my professional
life has been spent dealing with people who ignored the consequences of
their actions." She listed some examples on her fingers. "Drunk drivers,
offspring contesting their parents' wills after years of ignoring them,
vandals, shoplifters, idiots who thought it was okay to defraud
insurance companies and, yes, cheating spouses." She shook her head in
despair. "Nobody made them act that way; they made choices, just like
Eddie. He could have managed his money instead of blowing it on booze
and horses. He could have treated his wife with respect. He did neither;
he made his choice, so he gets to own whatever that brings."
We
were contemplating her words when one of the movers knocked on the
kitchen door and announced that they were finished. He suggested that
Lucy go through each room before they left, to confirm that the guys had
collected everything that she wanted taken. It was a somber moment as
we five checked each room in turn.
"Is there anything of yours in the garage?" I enquired, remembering that Lucy sometimes sculpted in metal.
She
smiled and shook her head. "I moved my welding gear to Megan's last
week. They had room in their garage and I knew that Eddie would never
notice that it was gone." She took one more slow look around the living
room. "No. That's it. This is Alison's house now. I've lost two husbands
here. I won't say that the wrong one died; but I'm close. Fuck it.
followed her out and watched as she locked up and gave her keys to
Megan. We stood and waved as the two of them got into their cars to
follow the van to Lucy's new home. I think we all realized that this day
had been long coming, but even knowing that, we still knew that Lucy
had to be hurting inside.
We
three went home. Lucy, Charles and Megan needed time together to reach
some sort of accommodation about, well, Lucy's accommodation. Our
presence wasn't required. We grabbed a light lunch and I turned the TV
on. Dear God! There were adverts on already for Christmas. I turned to
my wife to see if she found it as irritating as I did, only to pause at
the thoughtful expression on her face.
"Angie,"
she said. Our fiancée looked up. "You like stately homes, don't you?"
Angie agreed this was, in fact, the case. "Well how do you feel about a
trip to Derbyshire?"
"Because?" Angie prompted.
"Because
I think you'd love Chatsworth," Marie suggested. "And in November
there's a Christmas market in the grounds and the house will be
beautifully seasonally decorated." My wife turned her attention to me.
"Geoffrey?"
"Sounds good to me," I agreed. "I'll book three tickets."
"I'll book us somewhere to stay," Angie offered. "Somewhere nice."
So
that was agreed. Finishing our lunch, we decided that we ought to get
some fresh air, so we went for a stroll together. Marie assumed her
place holding my right hand and Angie holding my left. Without really
intending to, our return path took us past the pub. We decided that, as
we were obviously people of low moral standards, we might as well go in.
Tony,
the landlord knew us well enough; Marie and her friends are there every
other Friday after all. We chatted as he pulled my pint and poured the
girls' white wines. I remembered there was a function room upstairs and
asked to see it. It didn't take long. It was just a large rectangular
room. On the plus side, it had a small, raised stage at the far end and
there was a bar near the door. On the other hand, it was a bit tired.
Tony
saw my expression. "I know," he acknowledged. "It desperately needs
repainting, but since Covid, it's been a Catch22. We need new business
but we don't have the cash to invest to attract it."
I
paced out the room and we went back to the lounge. "If the walls were
just white," I suggested. "Then you could mount a projection system on
the ceiling and have an almost infinite selection of décor for any
girls listened to our conversation with interest. Tony considered my
idea. "So, instead of choosing a color scheme for the room, I just paint
it plain white and project whatever the customer wants for their
occasion," he mused.
"Exactly,"
I agreed. Gender reveals, weddings, kids' themed parties or Goth
Halloweens; hit enter on the computer and the room's personalized."
"Or Star Wars weddings," Angie contributed. "Nice thinking Geoff."
I
bowed, modestly. "Peter works in IT," I reminded the girls. "This isn't
directly his field but he may know someone who could advise us." I
turned back to our host. "Would you be interested if I could find out
what an installation like that would entail?"
Apparently,
he would and, after discussing the practicalities of hosting our
celebration there, we resumed our walk home in a rather more excited
mood. We were still talking about the logistics when Colin arrived, with
Mia in tow, and asked what we were arguing about. We'd moved onto the
timing by then. Angie favored March but Marie was concerned that our
student friends needed more time to design and create our growing
collection of outfits. My wife thought a summer wedding would be nicer,
possibly even outdoors. I was on the fence.
Colin
looked at us with a mixture of surprise and, it hurts me to admit this,
disappointment. "Surely you know the date. There's only one day it can
be." He looked sadly at our blank stares. "For goodness sake
grandpeople. Star Wars Day! May the Fourth."
I
confess: I hung my head in shame. I glanced at Angie. She was shaking
her head, muttering, "So damn obvious that a child could see it. What's
wrong with me?"
Marie was bemused. "What's going on? What do you mean; Star Wars Day? Is that a thing? Do people send cards?"
Mia
took pity on her in the face of Colin's despairing silence. "May the
Fourth sounds like the Jedi blessing, you know, May the Force be with
you," she explained patiently. "May the Fourth; May the Force."
Marie
'got it' then. "So if there's one day in the year to do Jedi stuff,
it's May the Fourth." She gave a deep sigh. "God! But nerds are weird."
She looked fondly at Angie and me. "And I'm stuck with two of them."
It
was Marie's turn to cook and Colin asked if Mia could eat with us as
her mum was working late. Of course, she was welcome and Angie
volunteered to help in the kitchen. The two women left us, with Marie
making very clear who was in charge as they went.
That left me with the two teens. "Homework?" I asked.
"Did it at lunchtime," answered Colin.
"Me too," Mia added.
"Right then. Go amuse yourselves. You can have the TV if you want."
"Well Grandad. The thing is; We were talking about 'The Talk', and we have some questions."
"Oh
you do, do you?" This wasn't quite how I'd visualized this going. "To
be honest, I don't think it would be appropriate for me to have that
particular discussion with Mia." I turned to address my comments
directly to her. "Mia, sweetheart, this is a conversation that you
should really be having with your mum. Even if it makes her too
uncomfortable and there are no aunts or older female cousins to ask, it
should still be a woman you talk to rather than me."
"But why?" She asked.
"Because
if anyone found that a man had been discussing sex with a young woman
not related to him, they might think that he was grooming her. Can you
imagine how being accused of that would change all of our lives?"
"I suppose so," she conceded.
"How
about this?" I suggested. "You ask your mum the same questions that
Colin has for me and you can compare notes. But," I put on my laboratory
manager voice. "No personal research!" They nodded, grinning, and I
told them to clear off: I'd deal with that problem later. I sloped off
to read my book; I felt as though I'd not has a minute to myself in
and Angie had excelled themselves. When Linda arrived, we sat down to a
dish of roast Mediterranean vegetables served with potato wedges,
fetta, pitta bread and smoked garlic mayonnaise. I hadn't heard a single
cross word from the kitchen either. The kids demolished their meals and
asked for second helpings. Marie made sure that there was some left for
Wendy, who was coming to collect Mia on her way home from work.
When
she arrived, Wendy was so apologetic about Mia staying for tea. Marie
told her that, rather than watch TV or play on their phones, both kids
had helped prepare the meal. I quietly wondered if that explained the
lack of temperament from my wife's sous chef, as Angie admitted she
could be a diva in the kitchen. In fact, Wendy was almost in tears when
Mia brought out the plate that we had set aside for her. Colin, our
sommelier, offered her a glass of the red that Angie and I had shared
earlier over our meal. It was only a Grandeza Gran Tradición from the
local supermarket but Colin though that a Spanish wine would go well
with a meal that didn't stint on the garlic. He chose well.
I left the women to chat and went back to the works of the late Terry Pratchett. Colin joined me. "Grandad."
"Yes, Colin?" I replied, putting down my book.
"Mia's mum seems so sad," he observed.
"She does rather," I agreed, wondering where he was going with this.
"Do you think that she's pretty?"
"Yes, I suppose that I do." I admitted.
"I do too," he said. "But she's always saying that she's so fat and ugly that no-one likes her."
"Her
husband left her," I tried to explain. "When that happens to someone,
they tend to look at themselves and think what they should have done
differently. It dents their confidence. It's even worse if someone says
it's you that's driven them away."
I
decided to share. "Grandma's friend, Lucy, has just left her husband.
He's been acting horrible towards her for a while now. He says that
she's too old and wrinkled to be attractive anymore."
Okay;
those weren't his exact words but I wasn't going to describe Lucy's
snatch to a youngster. "But he lied to excuse his own behavior. He's
been seeing another woman who's nowhere near as pretty as Lucy but,
rather than admit he's been cheating, he blames Lucy for driving him
away."
"So is Lucy happy now?" He persisted. Shit! I could see where his logic was taking him. I wouldn't lie though.
"She's
happier than she was, because she has her friends to support her and
now she realizes that he was the problem, not her." I was careful not to
take credit for my part in rebuilding Lucy's self-confidence. "She's
sad that her marriage has failed but she knows that she wasn't the
cause."
"So what would help Mia's mum?"
I
thought carefully. Colin deserved an honest answer, if not a detailed
one. "Wendy needs to be surrounded by people who compliment her, who
support her, who remind her how good a mum she is, people who are just
there when she needs a hug. Grandma's friends are like that and," I
lowered my voice to a whisper, "I think she's going to invite Wendy to
likes her too," he added. "Do you think that she might feel better
then? It's just that I know that Mia worries about her and I want them
both to be happy."
"You're
a good lad, Colin. As long as you and Mia are friends, her mum knows
that her daughter has someone to rely on. That's one less worry for
Wendy. There's nothing else you two can do. Now it's time for the adults
to step up and try to repair the damage to her self-image. That's
probably starting now." I realized that it was just the two of us; Mia
must be with the other women. I suspected that my wife, daughter and
lover may be, very subtly coaching Mia in how to bolster her mother's
damaged confidence. Wendy was a good natured, fine looking woman who
deserved better than the hand that she'd been dealt. Marie and Angie
were batting for her so her life was about to change, God help her,
though, if they did unleash Lucy on her.
That
reminded me. Tomorrow was Tuesday: Cock casting and studio christening
day, and Angie was staying tonight; presumably sharing a the bed with my
wife and me. Colin was right; it wasn't fair that Wendy was alone and
unhappy when our lives were so full. I resolved that, whatever Wendy
decided if the girls invited her to join their coven, I wouldn't object.
"What are you thinking about Grandad? You're smiling to yourself."
"I was just thinking that sometimes a good deed is its own reward." I replied, rather disingenuously.
Our
conversation was interrupted by the women emerging from the kitchen.
Mia seemed happy and Wendy seemed quite excited. Apparently I was in
charge of feeding two teenagers on Friday because Wendy and Linda were
joining 'the girls' in the pub after work. There was quite a positive
buzz as our guests departed. The kids seemed to sense a new energy in
Wendy and her main concern seemed to be what to wear. She hugged each of
us, thanking us for her meal and, on my turn, I gave her an extra
squeeze and whispered, "don't fret about what to wear; you'll look
lovely whatever you choose."
She blushed and looked a little flustered as she led Mia to the car.
"Nice
one, Dad," Linda complimented me as she gave out her goodbye hugs. "She
needed that." Then she and Colin left too and it was just the three of
agree with Linda," Marie told me. "That was very nicely done. You
deserve a reward. What would you like?" she asked with a saucy wink.
I
gave the question some serious thought. "I think that my perfect
evening would be; a nice cup of coffee, the next episode of the
Mandalorian and then an early night with my two best girls."
"That,"
said my wife. "Was an excellent answer, so that's what you shall have."
And within ten minutes I was on the sofa, Marie on my right, Angie on
my left, and a coffee made from some of the blend that my wife had
begged from Megan on Sunday. By ten o'clock we were in bed together. And
I was right, it did prove to be the perfect end to the evening.
The Model.
Geoff
and Marie's adventures continue. Our narrator is Geoff, a retired lab
manager; In the course of a packed week, he has to do some modelling for
an artist friend and a birthday treat to organize, while his wife
guides him through the minefield of multiple relationships.
It
was a Tuesday morning in late October and, as I showered, I pondered
over the odd direction my life had taken these last few weeks. Take that
day; my wife, Marie, and our shared lover and betrothed, Angie, were in
the kitchen preparing breakfast. We had all made love the night before
but the two women had rejected my advances that morning because I was
meeting another of my wife's old friends, Lucy, so that she could make a
casting of my erect cock and then have sex in her studio. And when I
say 'old', the adjective is doing some heavy lifting, because first,
Marie has known Lucy for decades, and second, none of the four of us
will ever see sixty again.
Lucy,
as a token of gratitude for some complimentary comments I made about
her lady parts, followed by me fingering her until she came, has
declared herself to be permanently available as my free-use sex toy. As
she had, only the Monday before, left her husband for cheating on her
with a trans-woman, Lucy was still settling in with another friend who
had offered her a place to stay.
That
friend, Megan, is another one of my wife's circle of retirees who I
have had sex with, in her case with her husband's knowledge and
approval. Due to his age and health issues he had, for some time, been
encouraging his wife to take a lover. When Marie offered my services,
someone he knew and liked it was, oddly enough, a relief to him. Anyway,
that Sunday, while Marie, Angie and Megan pleasured Charles, Lucy and I
had sex in her new bedroom. That still left her studio across the
hallway 'un-christened', a situation that we were to resolve that
is, of course, quite a well-known artist and the emotional turmoil of
her husband withdrawing from her, and then gaslighting her into thinking
it her fault, had left her with a lot of emotional angst. In her case,
however, she has the talent to unload these emotions onto canvas. She's
somewhat like a blues singer in that respect; she dumps her misery into
her art, and then gets paid for it. And she does very well too.
Apparently,
many of her post-fingering works are inspired by me, who she represents
as an amorphous turquoise blob. The artworks are fresh and vibrant
compared to the gloomy work from immediately prior to my vaginal
therapy. Those could probably make even the most emotionally sterile
Goth burst into tears.
Now
Lucy has decided that she wants to make a dozen or so replicas of my
erect cock to give to all of my wife's close circle of friends, on the
grounds that I have fucked them all too with Marie's enthusiastic
approval. Indeed, two (or possibly three) of the coven were due to visit
us the following day. I made a mental note to ask who to expect.
Shrugging
my shoulders, I finished my shower, dried and dressed and followed the
scent of bacon and eggs downstairs. Angie greeted me with a kiss and a
cup of tea. My wife put two plates full of food on the table and queued
up for her turn. By the time we came up for air, Angie had added a third
plate and taken her place. We ate, chatting about our plans for the
had some 'consulting' scheduled that lunchtime. I'm convinced she
occasionally freelances for GCHQ, but we know better than to ask as
apparently she's signed some sort of non-disclosure agreement. Marie is
volunteering at a charity shop and I, of course have my own assignation.
We wished Angie goodbye and engaged in a little housework before it was
time for us both to set off.
I
dropped my wife off in town and, as she gave me a parting kiss, she
surprised me. "You have a free pass this morning Geoff. I'll want to
hear all about your day," she warned me. "But all of the rules are
suspended. Trust your conscience, my love." She gave me a heart melting
smile and strolled cheerfully off towards the shop.
I
was rather nonplussed. What the hell did she think I was going to do?
She knew that Lucy and I were going to be intimate but something else
was going on too. Thinking about it though, I realized that, for all my
doubts about my women's machinations, I was getting more sex now than I
ever did as a student, so what the fuck was I worrying about. And on
that cheerful thought, I put the car into gear and headed towards Lucy's
opened the door as I pulled up outside their gorgeous home. I would
have been more impressed with her timing if I hadn't already been aware
that she and Charles had an excellent security system that alerted them
to vehicles entering their driveway. Megan looked, as always, as though
she was dressed to impress. Well, I say always; I have an indelible
mental image of her admiring her naked self in my bedroom mirror, her
face covered in cum and generally looking like a well-used whore. I had
taken a photo on her phone and she shared it with her husband. No
secrets, she'd promised him.
We
went through to the small sitting room that Charles favored. Lucy was
sitting opposite him chatting about how she allowed me to use her body
however I wished. Charles hung on her every word while shamelessly
looking up her characteristically short skirt. Neither Lucy nor Megan
and I greeted each other amicably enough. I'd slept with his wife and,
in recognition, the previous Sunday I'd made it clear that my wife, our
fiancée and my sex toy (Lucy) were free to do whatever they wished to
make him happy. They did; in fact he was still gleefully so. Charles had
obviously been giving that some thought. "Geoff, old chap," he began as
I sat down next to Lucy. "Been thinking about that conversation you and
I had some weeks ago." I nodded noncommittally. "Thing is," he
continued. "I'm coming to the view that I placed needless restrictions
glanced across at his wife who sat next to him, obviously not sure
where this was going either. He carried on. "It's apparent that you and
Marie have an incredible bond. It's equally obvious that, despite your
affection for my wife, you are not trying to steal her from me." He
directed his next words to his wife. "Megan, you have my approval to
sleep with Geoffrey and any or all of your friends whenever and however
you see fit. My only condition is that you share the details so that I
may have at least a vicarious sex life.
Megan
considered for a moment. "Thank you, darling," she replied. "I don't
see that as a regular occurrence but you have my word that I will never
have sex without your knowledge." She gave a rather common smirk. "In
fact, I shall try to provide you with even more pictures, if it's at all
possible." Her husband's face lit up.
Lucy
stood. "Okay, this is all very civilized but I want to make a cast of
Geoff's cock and I can't do it while he's making polite conversation
with his trousers on." She reached down, impatiently, and pulled me to
my feet. Then, turning to Megan. "Coming?"
"Excuse me?" Megan seemed confused.
Lucy
sighed in exasperation. "I need him erect," she reminded her friend.
"Yes, I'll be naked, but I need to monitor the alginate. Seeing as
Charles has given you a free pass, you can get your kit off too and keep
him stoked up until it sets."
Megan
was still playing catch-up as Charles and I looked on in amusement.
"How?" She asked, almost plaintively. "You'll have his genitalia in a
for goodness sake Megan," Lucy retorted. "Let him play with your tits;
stick your finger up his bum; stick his finger up your bum. You're a
married woman, surely you can think of something to keep him hard!"
I'm
not sure if I'd ever heard a man 'chortle' before. I thought it was
something that last happened in the nineteen thirties. But Charles did
it then. A refined masculine equivalent of a giggle at his wife's
discomfiture. He smiled as Megan looked helplessly at him for support.
"Run
along dear," he suggested. "Go and give Lucy and Geoffrey a hand." He
seemed delighted at his double entendre. And so, with Lucy leading the
way and Megan grumbling quietly behind me, we climbed the stairs to
Lucy's studio. Once there, I stood in the center of the room and looked
around. There were two easels with blank canvasses propped either side
of the window and some of her post-orgasm works set around another two
walls. These were clearly identifiable by the light, the vibrancy and
positivity of the colors. I'm also embarrassed to admit that I
recognized my turquoise color-avatar in quite a few. Of her gloomy
pre-orgasm works, there was no sign.
Lucy
noticed from the table where she was preparing her casting materials.
"I didn't throw them away," she answered my unasked question. "You were
right. If Eddie wants some of my work as part our assets, then he can
have those that he inspired." Her eyes flashed with anger. "He can have
the shit ones; the ones fuelled by the hurt, lies and betrayal. I just
don't want them where I can see them."
Megan
stepped up behind her friend and gave her a hug. "And if we have to go
to court, then that's exactly what I'll tell the judge." She gave a
feral smile. "Divorces are supposed to be no-fault but if I'm forced to
explain why we're offering these as part of Eddie's settlement, then the
court will hear exactly who the injured party is."
I
felt a slight shiver at Megan's words. I'm glad she was on our side.
"Right," said Lucy, apparently content with her progress. "Let's get
your trousers off, your cock hard and this first cast made." She strode
towards me with purpose. "Then you can sit me on the edge of this bench
and give this room a proper opening ceremony." She grinned across at
Megan. "Maybe Charles would like to come and watch." She clapped her
hands mischievously. "Ooh! Perhaps Geoff could give you a seeing to as
shook her head in despair. In theory, she was the matriarch of Marie's
friend group; the oldest, possibly the richest, certainly the most
socially connected. Those niceties meant nothing to Lucy. To her, it was
just Megan she was talking to, and that required no additional
deference, so none was given.
I
was guided to an arrangement of dining chairs that had struck me as odd
when we'd entered the room. Four of them, arranged in a line, with a
footstool separating the central pair. I began to understand. Lucy
slipped into artist mode. "Right. The pair of you, get your kit off and
let's get that cock pumped up to eleven." Lucy cheerfully ignored
Megan's glare as we complied. Lucy instructed me to lay across the
chairs with my groin over the gap created by the footstool. While I got
comfy, she fetched a plastic box, about the size of a shoe box, though
perhaps a little deeper, and put it on the footstool; packing underneath
it until the lip was touching my belly and my thighs. I suppose that
have a sticky-up cock," she explained. "So I think alginate is the best
material for the mold. If this doesn't work, I can try plaster bandages
but they are slower to set and that means we have to keep you hard for
longer." Turning to her unwilling assistant, she added. "Megan, get him
hard while I prep the goo."
By
now, I was face down with my meat and two veg dangling in an oversized
take-away container: not the most erotic of positions. Megan, obviously
at a loss, decided to rely on Lucy's experience of these situations and
took her advice literally. The next thing I knew was that her lubricated
index finger was going the wrong way up a one way street.
Now,
this wasn't totally virgin territory; Marie and Angie had insisted on
testing some butt-plugs on me (or in me, whichever) on our return from
our first visit to the local sex-shop. There had also been episodes of
bum rubbing by one whilst I was actively ploughing the other one's
furrow, but this was my first actual prostate massage. I'll admit now
that I wasn't complaining. It also occurred to me that this wasn't
beginner's luck. Megan had definitely done this before, the dirty bitch.
I wondered to myself if she'd give lessons.
Lucy
took a malicious delight in both Megan's discomfort and her results.
"You dirty cow," she crowed, more or less echoing out loud my own
thoughts. "You've done this before: Lucky old Charles. Does he still get
to enjoy it?" She asked, as she began pouring the freshly mixed blue
syrup into the bowl around my nether regions. Megan gave a noncommittal
grunt as she continued to work her finger in and out.
"Keep
him there, Megan; nicely on a rolling boil. For God's sake though,
please don't make him come." Lucy checked her watch. "Three minutes at
least, five would be better." She crouched down next to me, giving me a
close up view of her boobs. Their modest size had limited gravity's
effect. They were still remarkably perky for her age and I knew from
recent experience that they were rather sensitive.
"Are you still stiff, Geoff?" She asked. "Or there something else we can do to keep you hard?"
I
gave the matter some serious thought. Or as serious as I could manage
given Megan's magical ministrations. "That would be a great name for a
band," I told myself and then, getting a grip on reality. "Tell me what
you want me to do to you once we've finished this," I suggested.
She
nodded in approval. Apparently, that was a good idea. "Well, first of
all I'm going to wash you. The alginate is food grade, so it's safe but,
as I'm intending to suck your cock, I'd prefer to get you clean. If we
can get Charles upstairs, he might like to watch Megan go down on me
smiled at the look of anticipation on my face. Then I'm going to sit on
the edge of my workbench. I'll open my thighs so that you can all see
me fully exposed and glistening wet. You'll step up and run your finger
between my lips. You'll circle my clit, just barely touching it until
you know that I can't take any more then you'll slip your cock inside me
and pound me and pound me until you spew your spunk deep into my cunt."
"Then
I want Megan to suck you clean: to suck your cum and my juices off your
cock. If we're lucky, Charles will be able to watch and maybe we'll see
how Charles and Meggie feel about you slipping my assistant one as
well." I could actually feel the disapproval emanating from the woman
behind me, probably only partly at being referred to as 'Meggie'. Lucy's
words were working though. The images she'd put in my head, along with
the gentle manipulation of my prostate had me as hard as I'd ever been.
We
stayed like that for at least the full five minutes, then Lucy stood
up. "That's enough now thank you Megan," she announced. "We need him to
go soft now so that we can get his cock out of the mold with the minimum
damage. To the mold," she added hastily, looking down at me.
Megan
left us, presumably to wash her hands. Lucy went back to her bench and
started to tidy her modelling materials away. Making space for sex, I
realized. After two or three minutes of just laying comfortably with my
eyes closed, I realized that I had lost my erection and that Little
Geoff was actually living up to his name. "Lucy?" I called. "Do you
think you could release me?"
After
checking that I was sure that I had subsided, she removed the wooden
frames that she'd used to support the mold and gently lowered it away
from me. There were no slurping or sucking noises. No hairs got,
entertainingly, for her, or painfully, for me, caught in the alginate.
She stood and carried it carefully to the bench. I eased myself off the
chairs and followed her.
"In
theory, I could make a plaster cast now but I think I'd rather wait an
hour or so to be sure the impression is totally set," she decided.
"Let’s get you clean and then we can get on with the fun bit."
We
crossed the hallway to her bedroom and squeezed into the small but
complete en suite. She grinned up at me as she washed me clean. To be
honest, there was barely any traces of the alginate on my cock. I hoped
that meant our efforts had worked. Of course, by the time I was suitably
clean, I was hard again.
We
returned to the studio to find that a fully dressed Megan had managed
to get Charles upstairs. He was sitting on one of the chairs, breathing
heavily but otherwise apparently okay. "It seems that I have been
invited to some sort of dedication ritual," he declared. "I must say,
I'm quite looking forward to it."
Lucy
led me to stand in front of them; so close that they could reach out
and touch us. She knelt in front of me, side on to our audience and
gently wanked my cock. Gazing submissively up at me, she engulfed my
glans with her lips. With a bob of her head, half of my shaft
disappeared into her mouth. I sighed with pleasure. She pulled off and
turned to give the others a radiant smile. They sat enraptured. I tried
to remember if Megan had ever been there when I'd had sex with one of
her friends. Apart from that time with Lucy in the pub, I thought not.
Lucy
returned to her task. Rubbing her tongue along my length starting at my
scrotum and ending at my tip. And so she carried on; taking me in her
mouth, licking me, taking my balls in her mouth. Varying her attentions
so that I was constantly stimulated but never so much that I was likely
to come. I was lost in the moment but, even so, I don't believe that
either Charles or Megan blinked once.
After,
three, perhaps four minutes Lucy paused. "It's time," she told me. I
helped her up and we walked hand in hand towards her cleared workbench.
She reached underneath and pulled out a yoga mat that she laid over the
edge. "Fetch the others," she suggested. "They need a closer view."
I
helped Charles across the room whilst Megan brought his chair. She went
back for her own whilst I got him settled. I followed Charles' gaze to
see that, good as her word, Lucy was sitting at the edge of the bench,
thighs wide apart, showing her delectable snatch to an appreciative
audience. Even Megan seemed entranced at the sight. The snatch that
Eddie, Lucy's husband, had deemed to be too old and wrinkled to be
a salacious smile Lucy slipped a finger between her labia, then three
fingers two holding the inner lips apart so that we could see her middle
finger slide inside her cunt. "Dear God!" Charles exclaimed in awed
tones. Megan gave his hand an affectionate squeeze as we watched my toy
was still completely hard when we both knew that it was time. I stepped
between Lucy's legs, gave her a long, passionate kiss and, taking my
cock in my hand, I slipped slowly but easily inside her. It was an odd
feeling. We weren't making love but nor were we so turned on that we
wanted to fuck like rabbits; the way that we had previously. No this was
purely recreational sex; it felt good, we were both enjoying it and we
were both intending that the other should orgasm but there was no
urgency. Wordlessly, we agreed to put on a performance for our friends.
That's what we did. Lucy lay back while I supported her and used my grip
on her for purchase as I thrust powerfully back and forth.
My
partner mirrored my actions, raising her hips to meet me, both working
hard to please the other. We were sweaty, panting messes when we finally
climaxed. I came first but managed to stay hard long enough for Lucy to
follow me over the cliff. It was almost a relief to be able to relax.
Lucy pulled me down for a long tender kiss.
"Thank
you," she whispered in my ear. "This makes the studio feel more like
home. Even more than the home I just left," she added sadly.
Finally,
I slipped out of Lucy as I leaned over her reclining body, both of my
hands taking my weight as I caught my breath. It didn't take long for my
heart rate and my breathing to settle at which point I helped Lucy into
a sitting position. We grinned at each other. It had been an excellent
fuck. Lucy hadn't finished though.
"Charles?" She asked in a soft beseeching voice. "Would you be offended if I asked Megan to clean Geoff's cock?"
"Eh? Er, no?" He seemed at a loss as to what he was being asked.
Lucy
switched her attention to her friend and raised an eyebrow in enquiry.
"Oh! Alright," Megan huffed. "I hope you realize that I'm not your
bloody maid." She stood and turned towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Lucy asked.
"To get a damn facecloth," replied a bemused Megan. "Like you asked."
"I asked you to clean him, not wash him," Lucy clarified.
"Oh."
Our friend looked concerned as the penny dropped. "Charles," she
addressed her husband. "Lucy is asking me to clean Geoffrey's cock with
my mouth. We seem to be testing a lot of boundaries here. If this makes
you at all uncomfortable, I will decline."
Charles
considered for a moment. "You showed me a photograph of the aftermath
of you having sex with Geoffrey and I have touched his wife intimately. I
think that this is entirely your choice, my love." He sat back,
obviously content to watch whatever transpired.
Lucy
reached out for my hand and pulled me to her. She turned me so that I
faced away from her and then she put her arms around my chest and leaned
her chin on my shoulder. It was such a casually affectionate act that,
for a moment, I felt a pang of concern; not that I was being unfaithful
to Marie, but more that Lucy and I were developing a relationship that I
couldn't explain. I was afraid that, in my ignorance, I'd hurt her
somehow. I needed to talk to my wife about it. How fucked up is that!
Megan,
rather hesitantly, knelt at my feet. I remember her request after our
first evening together. She'd told me that making love made her feel as
though she was cheating on her husband; sharing affection that should be
only his. But, somehow, merely giving and taking sexual pleasure
seemed; acceptable. I'd never spoken of that to anyone else. Possibly
Megan had told her friends, I knew they were more frank about sex than
most men, but I suspected that Lucy was operating on instinct.
Megan
took my flaccid cock on her mouth. Lucy watched approvingly as her
friend sucked the residue of our sex off me. Charles watched,
fascinated. I tried to reason how to behave. Then I remembered the
advice Marie had given so many times, and had repeated that morning;
"Trust your conscience," she had said. I decided that honesty would
serve us all best.
Without
dislodging Lucy, whose tits were still distractingly pressed tightly
against my back, I stroked Megan's hair. "That's so good," I
complimented her. "Do you like the taste of Lucy's cunt on my cock?" She
gazed up at me, her pupils dilated with lust. She'd just watched two of
her friends fuck within arms' length and now she was sucking my cock.
She was obviously conflicted by her situation, fellating me as Charles
hadn't finished though. She obviously felt that we were at a cusp in
this complex web of relationships. "Charles. Megan won't admit it to
you, but she needs to fuck Geoff. I'll stay here with you if you refuse
to watch, but I think that we should join them."
He looked at her, startled by her words and Megan pulled away from me and began to protest.
Lucy
shushed her. "Megan," she chided her friend. "Your nips are stuck out
like doorstops and I imagine that your knickers are sopping wet. Denying
what's obvious is dishonest. You need a fuck and I'll entertain Charles
while you scratch your itch."
"Charles,"
Lucy was on a roll now. "I admire you for loving Megan enough to allow
her this. But you've both overlooked something." They looked at her in
puzzlement. She explained. "Because you equate sex to penetrative
fucking, if you can't have an erection you can't have sex. But you can!"
She exclaimed in frustration. "So, instead of you giving your wife to
Geoff, you and he are going to swap women. They can do their thing, you
and I will do ours. Preferably in the same room; my room. Please?" She
looked intrigued. He looked hopefully at his wife. I admit, I was
worried: Lucy is an amazing artist with a gift for capturing emotions on
canvas. In most practical respects, however, she remains a dingbat. My
concern centered on whether this was an area where Lucy's strength lay. I
was at a loss but my instincts told me that we were on Lucy's turf and I
should trust her. The decision was down to Charles.
"I
confess," he conceded, "that the thought of us exchanging women seems
less demeaning than merely having another man servicing my wife on my
nodded in agreement. "I think Geoff realized that when he suggested
that we were all free to play together last Sunday. I think that we four
should share a bed. You should be part of your wife's experience, at
least some of the time."
Megan
sat quietly as her husband considered. "Yes!" He declared. "An
excellent suggestion." Megan looked less enthusiastic than her husband.
Lucy
led us to her bedroom; I followed, supporting my good friend, Charles,
with my arm around his shoulder. Megan trailed, rather reluctantly,
behind us. We would have seemed an odd procession if anyone had seen us;
Lucy and I both naked, Megan and Charles both dressed. Lucy soon dealt
with that disparity with her usual tact. "Right you two. Get your kit
off and your bits out." It was obvious that her talent was predominantly
on the visual arts rather than the spoken word.
Nevertheless,
very shortly afterwards there were four naked people in the room, three
of them wondering who had put this loopy blonde in charge. "Geoff,
Charles, lay on the bed side by side. Megan, you're with Charles, I'm
I wasn't privy to Lucy's plan, but it was obvious that she had one. I
also knew that she had a huge heart and whatever it was she had in mind
was for our friends' benefit. I complied without complaint, helping
Charles onto the bed and then walking around to the other side to take
my own place. Lucy took Megan's hand and led her to Charles. "Caress
him. Show your love," Lucy instructed. Then she walked round to where I
lay watching and snuggled up next to me. She kissed me gently. I
responded in kind and our foreplay began. My hands found her tits, hers
stroked my balls. Eventually, I bent to suckle while my hands moved
lower, cupping then entering her warm, moist passage.
From
the corner of my eye, I noticed that our friends were similarly, if
less energetically, entangled. Reluctantly abandoning Lucy's boobs, I
followed my hands south. It had been a while since I had tasted her. It
was time to reacquaint myself with her scent and flavor. Marie, Angie
and Lucy, each with their individual character. Lucy's was musky, like
dark chocolate with a vanilla edge. I lapped enthusiastically at her
opening, already wet from our initiation and with some of my cum
glistening at the entrance. That bothered me not at all.
I
heard Megan moan gently. By my side my friend was laid between his
wife's thighs. He caught my glance. "It seemed unfair exciting her like
this, only then not being able to;” He broke off. I nodded in
understanding. He was wrong, but I understood. He loved Megan. To him,
foreplay with no hope of penetrative sex seemed to be denying her
something fundamental. Instead he just denied her all intimacy. It was
well intentioned, but cruel.
Lucy's voice broke into my thoughts. "Megan. It's time for you and me to change places."
Charles
and I were gently encouraged back to our original positions and the
women swapped sides. Both of them were obviously aroused. "Mount him,"
Lucy ordered. Him, in this instance, being me. I thought Megan was going
to argue but, carefully gazing at her husband, she eased herself
astride me and gingerly lined my cock up against her lips and, never
breaking eye contact, lowered herself onto me. The atmosphere in the
Charles." Lucy spoke softly. "He's inside your wife but nothing has
changed. She loves you as much as ever, and he loves Marie. You've lost
nothing and gained this." Charles gave a startled gasp. "We saw Megan's
skill at this," Lucy revealed. "She's done this before for you; hasn't
was laid behind Charles so I had no view, but Megan did. From what
little I could see, I was fairly confident that Megan was watching Lucy
give her husband the same internal massage that I'd been the grateful
recipient of earlier that morning. My cock was inside Megan and Lucy had
at least one finger inside Charles. From where I lay, he seemed content
with the arrangement so I left him to Lucy's tender care and focused on
too seemed to realize that her husband seemed unconcerned to see her
impaled on me, so she used me to rekindle the orgasm that Charles had
begun to build in her before Lucy intervened. I'm sorry if that sounded
as though I'm complaining. I had a woman in her mid-sixties bouncing on
my cock while I played with her remarkably full tits. I'm a straight
man. My needs are simple. I was as happy as a pig in shit and it was
could tell Megan was close. In this position, at this point, my wife
usually loses it and I have to take over. Megan was made of sterner
stuff. She was chasing her pleasure and a mere man was only required for
one thing, and that thing was currently sliding up and down her cunt.
"Don't you dare fucking come," she snarled. "You can; Come; When; I.;” I
had to guess the rest of the sentence, though the glazed, unfocussed
eyes and the ragged breathing made her intentions clear enough.
Finally,
she found her happy ending. Her belly muscles twitching as the spasms
hit, her head thrown back as a wave washed over her. Her whole body
shuddered as the intensity drained away. She started to lower herself
towards me. "No. Charles." I whispered in her ear.
She
pushed up and nodded. "Thank you Geoffrey. That was most satisfying,"
she acknowledged, politely, if breathlessly. "Thank you too, Charles.
You are too kind to me." And, discreetly disengaging from my cock, she
cuddled up to her husband. "Thank you, Lucy. Would you like another turn
with Geoff or;” She kissed Charles. "Would you prefer Lucy to carry on,
eyes opened wide in surprise as Lucy pressed more firmly on his
prostate. "Good lord!" He exclaimed. Megan lifted the hand that had been
stroking him and stared blankly for a moment. The pearly white fluid
apparent on her wrist.
It wasn't exactly an orgasm, he later told me, but it was near enough and certainly better than nothing.
Megan caught Lucy's eye. "I don't think Geoff came in me. Do you want another turn?"
Lucy
had me move to her side of the bed and lay behind her. The other two
moved over to make room and there we were. Me behind Lucy. Charles next
to her but facing his wife who was, in turn, facing him. Both women were
caressing his body with their hands and tits.
"Remember
what I said when you asked me, on Sunday, what my role in your
household was." She reminded me. "I am yours to use whenever and however
you want." She pushed her gorgeous little tush back into my groin.
"Fuck me. Don't try to make me come. Just use me like a wank toy."
Perhaps
you'll think less of me when I admit that I did exactly as she'd
suggested. I reached for the bottle she had been using that was on the
bedside cabinet (I assumed that with little foreplay she may have needed
a bit of supplementary lubrication) and applied a palm-full to my cock.
Laying back behind her, I eased inside and began humping into her tight
warm glove. Charles had to be aware that the woman currently fisting
his cock was simultaneously being fucked from behind by the man his wife
had just ridden. I thought that he summed up the situation quite
succinctly. "Dear God, can this day get any stranger?!"
I
lasted perhaps four minutes before I felt the urgency build in my
balls. Lucy must have sensed my instinctive change of pace and clenched
her cunt muscles even tighter. That finished me. "Oh! Fuck! Lucy!" I
groaned as I spurted inside her, pressing my belly hard against her soft
lay still in that position for a few moments until I slipped out and
she turned to face me. "Thank you, Geoff," was all she said. I
understood. She had chosen to repay my affection for her by giving
herself to me. Every time I used her, it was a sign that I respected and
appreciated her gift. Odd though it may seem, there was a Lucy logic to
it that made sense; but a warped sense that needed navigating
spent another five minutes, we four, quietly regaining our breath
before helping Megan get her husband into their shower and then leaving
them while we attended to ourselves. After our showers, I joined them
for a light and a surprisingly not at all awkward lunch before I left to
collect Marie from work.
Charles
and I had chatted in his sitting room as the two women worked in the
kitchen; I know, typical males. In our defense, Charles is ninety and I
was a guest. Anyway, during our chat he reassured me that he was less
concerned than ever about his wife and I having sex. He'd just seen her
inhaling my cock and riding me. As far as he was concerned, nothing in
the way we'd behaved made him feel insecure in their relationship. He
intended to regard future intimacy between us as being comparable with
her visiting a spa or a therapist. His wife returned to him, content and
relaxed, and he had no fear for their marriage.
He
also referred to my relationship with Lucy. "She loves you, you know,
old man," he advised me. "Megan admires you. She respects you. She's
even quite fond of you. But, Lucy." He regarded me carefully. "She's
actually in love with you. Tread carefully."
I
acknowledged his concern, while admitting that she had a special place
in my heart too. His contented smile convinced me that she'd made a
place in his heart as well. We shared a look; how her husband could have
left such an exciting, vibrant and loving wife was a mystery to both of
moved on to other topics when the women arrived with lunch. They had
put together a salad of smoked salmon, pasta, cucumber, radish, tomato
and shredded lettuce with a dill and cream cheese dressing. Megan took
care to ensure that they both ate a well-balanced diet.
Marie
looked surprisingly flustered when I met her outside the charity shop
that afternoon. My first thought was that, somehow, that morning I had
crossed into my wife's discomfort zone. She must have noticed my
concern. ""Don't be silly, dear. I've already spoken to Megan. You and I
are fine." She shook her head, apparently annoyed with herself. "It's
Jo's birthday on Saturday and I need to get her a card and a present.
I've been putting it off and I still have no idea what to get her."
"There's
the gin shop just round the corner. They also sell other spirits," I
observed. "What about a bottle of really good Trinidad rum?"
Marie considered. "I'll pop into the card shop if you go and scout out some candidates."
Now,
If there's one thing I'm capable of, it's browsing in booze shops, so I
toddled happily off on my mission. When my wife finally joined me in
the gin emporium, I was deliberating between two bottles; an Angostura
Rum 1919 or a Jung and Wulff Rum, Trinidad No.1.
"I like that label," she observed, helpfully picking the dearest of the two. "Is it expensive?"
"Not
compared to those over there." I pointed at the shelf opposite. "They
are in the hundreds. This." I raised the bottle of Jung and Wolff. "Is
about eighty pounds and apparently." I inspected the label. "It tastes
of toasted cinnamon, cumin seeds and zesty orange with a subtle vegetal
oak richness." That last part was beyond my understanding.
"Is that too expensive for Jo?" She asked, hesitantly.
"I'd
rather this than a bottle of supermarket rum from a factory in Slough.
When were you planning on giving it to her?" I asked.
"Well,
that's another thing," she complained. "She should have been one of the
students for our language class tomorrow night." That was our code for
Marie's friends visiting for carnal purposes. "But her son is visiting
and taking her out for a meal tomorrow so we'll have to find someone
else. On the other hand, it's our girls' night on Friday so we can make
it a birthday party for her."
We had paid for the J and W Rum and left the store when a rather naughty thought occurred to me,
To be continued in part 14. Based on posts by Only In My Mind, in 15 parts, for Literotica.
