Pictures From The Past free porn video

"I must've been fucking insane," I cussed, staring around the cavernous attic. "Why did I sign up for this?" 

"This" was cleaning out my deceased mother's house. Large, traditional, and draughty, she'd bequeathed it to me. But, being a city girl, I'd decided to sell this country dwelling.

After a morning of hard graft, broken fingernails, and filling a gigantic skip, what used to be my former home, was now nothing more than a husk.

Mum had disposed of most of the rubbish before she died. An accomplished organiser, and not wanting to leave me with a horrible task, she'd started the clearing out process in her last few months. To be truthful, calling her possessions "rubbish" wasn't fair. Much of it was the odds and ends gathered during a lifetime, and being a natural hoarder, she'd collected many things. Now the house was virtually empty.

I'd taken care of the furniture, the clothes and the special items, that help form a home and shape it into an individual's personality. The quality of the most of the items wasn't disputable but Mum's old-fashioned taste was not mine. I had three options: take what I desired, give away what I could, and scrap what I didn't want. I donated an incredible amount to charities — Mum would approve — and that eased my conscience. A few items I put in my car. I wanted them because of the memories they evoked and I would regret throwing them out. The rest, as they say, was 'taking the high road' straight to the county dump.

But, my work wasn't yet finished. I had to dispose of an old travelling trunk, discovered beneath a grimy bedspread. A sleeve absorbed the sweat from my brow as I glared at the damn thing and let the dust settle. Robustly built with bulging, brass buckles protecting the corners, and brackets along the edges, it looked indestructible. Despite its dirty state, the rich texture of the wood was obvious, as was the quality of the joinery. Both bore witness to the craftsman's skill, and it was clear, even with a cursory glance, that the chest had cost a tidy sum.

Because I'd never seen it or heard Mum mention it, I stood there perplexed. What should I do? Chuck it away and return to my apartment before tea? Or open the cursed thing and risk blowing the rest of the day sorting through the contents? My hands shook when I reached to prise open the top. Being honest, a part of me hoped the lid wouldn't budge; it would save time and energy. Trouble is, I'm nosey. I had to look inside the damn thing.

Certain my saint of a mother wouldn't have owned anything distasteful, I gripped the cover, and after fortifying myself one last time, lifted. What I discovered both astounded and delighted me.

Bunches of letters lay scattered over some notebooks. On closer scrutiny, the books looked more like diaries. Intrigued, I slumped cross-legged on the cold floor, fished out a letter, and read. The paper, wafer thin and discoloured from age, was fragile. Unfolding it required caution.

I'd automatically assumed the correspondence was Mum's, but after studying the initial few lines, it became clear I was wrong. The first sign was the handwriting: it wasn't hers. And the second clue was the name: Daphne. It was then I realised these belonged to my Grandmother. My heart pounded.

I hadn't known Grandma that well because she'd died when I was a toddler. Although I could recall sitting on her knee, to my childlike mind she'd been just one of many kind, old people who pampered me with love and affection. Mum never talked about her although she had a few photographs of her mother scattered around the house. I didn't appreciate how beautiful my mother's mother had been until I reached adulthood. Tall, elegant, and immaculate, she commanded attention.

After painstaking efforts to decipher the scrawny handwriting, I found this was a love letter. Harry, the writer, had known Grandma during the Second World War, according to the date on the letter. Reading the romantic words, my cheeks flushed. However, that was nothing to what I experienced when he described, in explicit detail, how he liked what she did to him when they were together. By the time I returned the letter to its envelope, my cheeks were a deep crimson, and I had no illusions about how enamoured he was with my Grandma.

Extracting a different pile from the trunk, another surprise lay in wait. I'd assumed all the correspondence was from Harry. The fragile paper was the same, the declarations of love were equal to those professed by Harry, but this Romeo's name was Bert. I wrinkled my nose and hated myself for not being able to let things be. Damn. Abandoning all hope of finishing my task, I checked through the other bundles.

I picked a random letter from each bunch and was shocked to discover that a different Casanova had penned each stack of letters. Among the group of young men wooing Grandma, was a Tom, a Dick and a Harry, along with a tinker, a tailor and a candlestick maker, each smitten if their words were true.

Okay, I'm joking — but there were more names than I would have expected.

Even more surprising, a few young ladies had also confessed their feelings. A soft whistle escaped my lips as I concluded that Grandma Daphne had been quite a woman. If the different names were genuine — why wouldn't they be? — then she'd had her fair share of admirers.

Despite so many expressions of affection, I had a sense of unease. It gnawed away in my gut and I could not shake it off. It was like hearing the rumble of thunder, far, far away, and knowing trouble was heading your way. Taking a deep breath, I loosened up. Having suffered enough sentimental claptrap to last me a lifetime, I assigned the bundles to the floor and picked up a book.

Flipping through the pages, my brow furrowed. It wasn't a diary, as I'd assumed, but a ledger. Each row comprised a weird sequence of letters and numbers. One example read, '10/7 Harry 10q BC,' another, '12/8 Clifford 15q QF.' My eyebrows arched. I could quote more, but every page contained these equations. I puzzled over the peculiar combinations for a few minutes but got no nearer to grasping their meaning than when I first viewed them. Despairing at my ineptitude, I lay the ledgers on the floor, next to the discarded letters, and picked up one of the thinner books.

I grinned when I read the first page. Grandma had kept diaries, and I had them here. Her handwriting was exquisite, but her style was not what I expected. It wasn't flowery, or wishy-washy, it was direct and to the point, written by someone who had a good understanding of the English language, but wasn't obsessed with it.

A lot of entries, describing her life in the Wrens and how her day had progressed, soon had me flipping through the pages. Although interesting, the life she narrated was one of austerity. It was easy to imagine the dark, sombre period in our history but, despite this, Grandma looked to enjoy life.

Then came an entry detailing events that had great repercussions on her life.

o0o

Having won my promotion to Captain, I'm being transferred to London, to work for the ministry of defence. I can't wait. This could be the opportunity I've been waiting for.

o0o

Then she explained what she needed to organise, who she should contact, and other mundane stuff involved with moving. My chest tightened and my breathing slowed. It was as if I was reading a page of my own diary. Grandma's statement about "the opportunity I've been waiting for" sent a shiver down my spine; without having known her, we were kindred spirits. I had done a similar thing at her age because the narrow-minded inhabitants of Mum's village had driven me insane. It was easy to understand the enthusiasm and excitement she'd experienced. I continued reading, and it wasn't long before another entry sent a ripple of anticipation through my body.

o0o

21st May 1943. Enjoyed lunch at the Ritz with the girls. Met someone called Arthur. A shady character, if you ask me, although his outfit was very snazzy. He oozed charm and sophistication and asked me to dinner. I know I shouldn't but I agreed. Tomorrow evening. Dinner then a show. Could be fun.

o0o

I could not recall reading a letter from any Arthur. I peered into the chest to see if any letters had escaped my attention. "Thought not," I mumbled. My search had revealed nothing. Although I was alone, the smug expression on my face would have done a second-hand car salesman proud. I turned the page.

o0o

22nd May 1943. 

Dinner with Arthur tonight. I'm not sure about him. He is handsome and debonair but... that is the nub of my problem. He looks and sounds like a gentleman but he doesn't behave as one should. Once or twice yesterday, I caught him leering at me. The look in his eyes was unmistakable and I'm wondering what to wear. If I choose a dress, maybe I'll send him the wrong signals, but if I wear my Wrens uniform... well, we all know what men think about women in uniform. Hmm, decisions, decisions. I'll make my mind up this evening.

o0o

My heartbeat quickened, and I flicked to the following page. Grandma hadn't let me down. There was her account of the date with Arthur. I trailed my finger down the words, scanning for the interesting bits. I soon came across the first juicy titbit.

o0o

He couldn't keep his eyes or his hands from my body. More than once I had to remove a hand from my thigh in the restaurant. Even though I enjoyed his attention, other patrons were staring, and I didn't want them thinking I was that sort of woman.

o0o

I shook my head and smirked. "Oh dear Grandma," I muttered, "times sure have changed since your day." I continued reading. Grandma's journal surpassed all expectations, and I was glad I'd checked the chest. I was also thankful nobody else was around because I didn't want to explain why my nipples were protruding in my sweatshirt. I didn't know how Grandma had lived, what her job was, or what her personal tastes were, but I hadn't expected this. It was a real eye-opener. The images her words imprinted in my mind were vivid — and the damp patch in my knickers continued spreading.

o0o

It would be wrong to say what happened next was due to alcohol. It wasn't. I glanced around the table but nobody was paying attention to us. Misunderstanding my actions, Ernie flashed me a nasty grin. "Looks like your Dolly bird's got cold feet, Arfur. You're wasting your fucking time wiv 'er."

Arthur looked like a child who'd lost his favourite toy to the local bully. My waning interest in him evaporated. Turning to face Ernie, I showed him my pearly whites. "You're a right bastard," I said. "Show me the money." He reached into his suit and pulled out a well-filled clip. I've never been one to shirk a challenge and Ernie's supercilious grin spurred me on. I knew I would enjoy earning my fiver.

o0o

Reading Grandma's explicit explanation of how she improved her financial position, I couldn't believe my eyes. Maybe five pounds doesn't sound that big of a deal — but it was more than double her weekly wage. The erotic images her words conjured in my imagination played out like a film. In quick time, my hand was inside my sweatpants and lewd squelching sounds soon echoed around the empty attic.

o0o

"C'mon Doll, 'ike that skirt up. I want to see some flesh." Ernie's coarse words turned me on and forgetting Arthur's presence, I did as asked. "Further," he demanded when my stocking tops came into view. Seeing Arthur jealously watching, I continued inching the garment up my thighs and didn't stop until I'd exposed my fancy French knickers. Both men gave a huge sigh of appreciation but only Ernie thrust a hand between my legs. My sex yielded to his touch, and the moan that escaped my lips pleased him. He pressed harder into my moist apex. "Yeah, you're up for it, Darlin'."

I was. Without wasting a precious second, I undid his fly and slipped my hand inside. The heat his cock radiated could have scorched my fingers, but I gripped his hard member. I moved my hand as much as I could within the confined space and heard Ernie's satisfied grunt. "That's it, Doll, keep that up and we'll get along just fine." A large masculine paw covered mine to help guide my movements. Simultaneously, the pressure between my legs increased. This went on until I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Make it a tenner and I'll suck your cock," I murmured.

"Good girl. Let me 'elp you," he said and pulled down his trousers. I slipped from the seat and knelt between his legs. Seconds later the dim club lighting illuminated his engorged flesh. I wrapped my hand around his throbbing prick and continued wanking him. The obvious pleasure Ernie had seeing me beneath the table was infectious, and I resolved to give him the best blowjob ever. 

"Oooh, you dirty little whore," he said when my mouth closed around his sensitive rim. He entwined his fingers in my hair and pulled me toward him. His cock slid between my lips, over my tongue and into my throat. Ignoring my gagging noises, he kept forcing me into his lap and muttering encouragement.

When I released his prick, it was a huge turn on seeing the long tendrils of saliva linking us. I wasn't the only one who appreciated the view. Ernie shook his head and chortled. "My, my! Arfur 'as found 'iself a right corker. You'll do just fine 'ere in the Smoke." I didn't understand what he meant and cared even less. The only thing that interested me was the huge cock in front of me.

o0o

I slumped against the trunk and rested the open journal on my heaving chest. My nipples ached, but I didn't have enough hands. I wanted too many things at once — to continue reading, pursue my oncoming orgasm, and play with my breasts. I chose to finish reading Grandma's account and give myself a wonderful climax. Tugging my sweatpants over my knees, and bunching them around my ankles, I spread my legs.

With easier access, I grabbed the soft, wet, triangle of cloth covering my pussy. The cool air collided with my super-heated sex and sent shivers down my spine. I trailed my fingertips along my slippery slit and dipped them into my honey pot before bringing them to my swollen clit. Using small circular movements, I teased myself while reading the next paragraph. Within seconds, I was back in war-torn London, lost in the scandalous events unfolding in a Soho nightclub.

o0o

For the next few minutes, my world was Ernie's erection, his balls and my best efforts, to empty them. Using every trick in the book, plus my lips, tongue and hands, I soon had Ernie reaching for my hair. "Jesus, girl, you'll 'ave me popping my cork in no time." Then he bucked his hips and held my head steady. "That's it, girl, swallow the lot like the dirty cock sucker you are." Not that l had much choice in the matter. But, then again, I didn't mind. Before I slackened my jaw, the nightclub boss was shoving his prick down my throat.

Ernie might have been in charge, but subtlety wasn't his strongest point. It was obvious what he wanted, even without the obscenities regarding my status. His manhood glided between my soft lips and in an effort to live up to his expectations, I grasped hold of the greasy pole. "That's it, Doll make Daddy pop."

He continued pumping before pulling my head towards his groin to bury his pulsating cock in my throat. He moaned and stiffened and an expulsion of thick, salty spunk filled my mouth and disappeared into my stomach. His abdomen spasmed again, delivering another warm load for me to swallow, and I lost all sense of propriety. Kneeling beneath the table, gulping down the seemingly never-ending stream of semen, I was enjoying myself too much to care what people thought of me.

When he'd finished, Ernie released his grip on my hair and reached for my hand. He helped me up from my knees, a triumphant smile competing with the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "You certainly know how to please a fella, young lady."

I looked around the table. Apart from Arthur, who was sulking, smiling faces and knowing winks greeted me. It was like I'd passed an entrance exam into an exclusive club. Ernie pulled my head towards him and spoke into my ear. "If you want to earn lots more money, and have fun doing it, then come with me to my office upstairs." The stunning woman sitting beside him must have overheard. She nodded at me.

"Lead the way, Sir..."

His lewd guffaw drew attention to our table, but he didn't care. He stood, his semi-erect prick still hanging out of his trousers. "Would you do me the 'onors, Charlotte?" The beautiful advisor, wearing a wicked smirk, was restoring his dignity even as he spoke. When he offered me his arm, the surprise was mine when I saw her stand up as well. "My pleasure, Miss..."

o0o

Although Grandma's filthy behaviour was a pleasant surprise, the lurid images, plus my sticky digits, kept me on edge and I needed relief... Now.

I raised my top and pinched an erect nipple. Sweet oblivion beckoned, and I thrust my fingers into my dripping cunt. A stream of moans and profanities reverberated around the empty attic and, as expected, I soon tensed and then shook uncontrollably while a flow of sweet, sticky, nectar, swamped my fingers, and coated my inner thighs before dribbling down between my buttocks. Ecstatic, I allowed powerful emotions to sweep me away.

Despite the glorious sensations racking my body, I also experienced a touch of sadness. If the diary was a true account, Grandma was a slut, something Mum wouldn't have discussed with anyone. When asked about her mother, she'd simply say Granny had "done something in the war," but never offered details. I'd assumed Grandma had stayed in the services until retiring.

However, like a dissolvable tablet in a glass of water, all my preconceptions disappeared. Seconds later, my orgasm passed, and I lay slumped against the trunk, both satisfied and frustrated. If what I'd read so far was anything to go by, I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep my hands from myself. But I had to know what happened...

o0o

Ernie's office turned out to be a cosy 'pied-à-terre'. Apart from his desk and chairs, there was a kitchenette, bathroom and bedroom. "This is where we entertain guests who want more privacy than we can provide down in the club." He gestured to the woman standing next to me. "You've met my wife, Charlotte?" I nodded and turned my head towards her. She stared at me. Large, brown, come-to-bed eyes, sparkled with anticipation. "She loves to watch me fuck dirty little whores. Sometimes she even takes part, don't ya, love?" She nodded and moved behind me. Her hands reached up to my breasts and, for the second time this evening, I experienced something new.

"You were marvellous downstairs, Darlin'. I can't tell you how much I loved watching you suck my husband's cock. Will you do it again for me?"

I turned in her arms and nodded. She gave me a shy smile. "Do you want to undress me or should I do it myself?" She shook her head unbuttoning my blouse. We exchanged soft kisses while she disrobed me, only stopping when I was in stockings and underwear. A hand reached between my thighs and the kisses resumed with more passion. In the background, I heard Ernie gloat. "I'm glad you two girls are getting along. I don't like seeing Lotte being left out." Charlotte nibbled my ear and nuzzled my neck and I bit my lip to stop myself from crying out. God, she knew how to turn me on.

As if by telepathy, Charlotte stopped and turned me towards her other half. He'd undressed and stood with fists on his hips and a proud smile on his face. Charlotte kissed me again and then moved behind me. My bra fell loose, and I shook it off, showing my breasts to Ernie. His grin spread, and he nodded approvingly. His appreciation increased when his wife drew my frilly French knickers over my hips. He eyed me hungrily when my dark hairy patch came into view. He licked his lips. "I'll enjoy this," he growled and his cock, hanging at half-mast, twitched.

Charlotte held my hand and led me to stand in front of Ernie. His jaw jutted and his eyes focused on my semi-nakedness. "You're certainly beautiful, Doll. You can make a lot of dosh with that body. Lots will pay to fuck you. And I know 'em all." He beamed as we stared at each other, in silent communication. Message understood. 

I dropped to my knees and said, "I'd better make a good impression then, hadn't I?"

Ernie nodded and grabbed my head. For the second time, my mouth closed around the nightclub owner's penis and a shiver of pleasure ran down my spine. Charlotte stood behind me, playing with my hair and caressing my breasts while whispering encouragement to both of us. Not that we needed it. Ernie's prick had grown to its full length between my lips. Standing like an old-fashioned emperor, he watched my head move back and forth along his erection.

Charlotte's hands left me and out the corner of my eye, I watched her walk to the couch. She turned and slipped off her dress. To my surprise, she wasn't wearing underwear. She sat on the settee. "When you're ready, honey," she said and spread her legs. Ernie grunted and withdrew his prick from my mouth, albeit reluctantly. He helped me to my feet, complimented me on my oral skills and asked if I minded demonstrating them on his wife.

Although I'd never been with a woman, watching her playing with herself was such a turn on I couldn't refuse. Patting my bottom, he told me I was a good girl. "And while you're going down on her, I've got something you want." He placed my hand on his erection. "Lead the way, Doll."

I sauntered to the couch with Ernie in tow and leaned over Charlotte's supine body. She pressed her full, heavy breasts together and offered them up to me. "Begin with these," she said. Her large almond-coloured nipples were erect. 

Temptation is a dreadful vice, and her wantonness was too enticing. Despite not having been with a woman before, I tossed my inhibitions aside and sucked and nibbled Charlotte's nipples, making loud slurping noises. Her eyes closed and the corners of her mouth curled. It was a fair assumption she enjoyed my attention. It became even more obvious when she moaned, "Oh my God," as I licked my way down and over her smooth belly.

She reached up to caress her breasts and grab my hair, pulling me toward her sweet-smelling pussy. She smiled at her husband, who was watching with visible pleasure. "Fuck her, darling, fuck her good," she ordered as my tongue pressed against the swollen button hidden beneath her patch of pubic hair. "Make this gorgeous little whore scream."

Standing there, bending from the waist and legs ramrod straight, my derriere was easily accessible for Ernie. A hand slipped between my buttocks and began exploring. Fingers glided up and down the length of my slick slit while a thumb pressed against my tight arsehole. I was tonguing Charlotte's juicy pussy, lapping up her slick, sweet, juices when I heard the nightclub owner hawk and spit. A glob of warm saliva landed at the top of my buttocks and dribbled down toward his thumb. Tonight was definitely an evening of firsts. 

Although I'd not taken part in sodomy, I knew continental women enjoyed anal play. That said, the deviancy of what was happening, was a huge turn on, and when Ernie used his viscous fluid as a lubricant, it was easy to understand the attraction.

He eased his thumb past my sphincter. The sensation was so exquisite, I stopped what I was doing. Strong fingers then pushed between my slick pussy lips and all three digits moved. I looked into Charlotte's penetrating gaze and saw a wispy smile appear. "You like it, don't you?" Biting my bottom lip, I nodded. "Fink we've got a goer 'ere, Lotte," Ernie chuckled. "In fact, fink I might 'ave me a piece of this ass." He pressed harder, and I moaned, long and loud.

o0o

"Grandma!" I smothered a snigger. "What a slut." All my life, I'd Grandma had been portrayed as a lady, but what I was reading contradicted everything I'd heard. In fact, she was behaving very unladylike, and I was having trouble reconciling what Mum always professed and what I was learning from this diary.

o0o

Charlotte stroked my hair. "Oh my, you are a dirty whore, aren't you, Daphne.?" Again I nodded while her husband's hand moved faster. "I can see you're ready, young lady. Good. Ernie, darling, fuck this bitch." A hand grasped my hip while a big fat cock pressed against my buttocks. Despite some anxiety, I was dying to find out what it was like. "Spread 'em, Doll," Ernie ordered. I set my feet a shoulders breadth apart. A stinging slap was my reward, then another and another, while Charlotte pressed my face into her steamy cunt.

The spanking had my fleshy cheeks throbbing, and the heat generated spread throughout my entire frame. "Fuck her, Darling," Charlotte said huskily. "I want to watch you fucking this whore's ass." She thrust her sex into my willing mouth. "Make me cum, bitch." I clamped my lips onto her clit and sucked while shoving two fingers past her juicy pussy lips. That produced a round of whimpers while Ernie positioned his cock against my twitching arsehole.

He thrust his hips and the sharp pain of penetration was a shock, but I had no intention of stopping. Concentrating on bringing Charlotte to a shattering orgasm, I buried my screams in her pubic mound.

o0o

I had my hand back inside my sticky knickers. I couldn't help it. This journal wasn't just a factual summary of what happened, it was a blistering hot recollection. Why had she written it like this? I had no idea. But, maybe she'd read her diary when she needed some relief — like I did now.

Playing with myself, I remembered my first anal experience and understood where Grandma was coming from. Like her, my initiation had been at the hands of an older gentleman. Knowing it was my first time, he took things easy. Similar to Ernie, he began slowly, first using his fingers, touching, probing, and preparing me for the real thing. When he introduced his prick to my asshole, he did it tenderly, gently increasing the speed, building up the intensity until I was screaming at him to "fuck my ass," which he did — with vigour.

o0o

While Ernie continued entering me, I held my breath until I felt his pubic hair against my bum. "Fucking 'ell, Doll, you're tighter than a duck's ass, but it don't 'arf feel good." He ground into me, his wiry pubes tormenting my sensitive buttocks, but he was right. Although it was my first time, the sensations I experienced outweighed the discomfort. He withdrew a few inches before pushing back inside me, repeating the process, but each time his strokes were longer. His wife spoke. "She likes it, Ernie. Your new whore likes it up the ass. She hasn't missed a beat the whole time and if she keeps this up, I'm going to cum all over her beautiful, fucking face."

Concentrating on pleasing Charlotte helped me get through the searing pain of Ernie's penetration. However, the initial burn had evolved into a delicious sensation and that increased with each thrust. The smouldering embers Arthur ignited in the shelter were now well and truly alight. Trapped by my own sexual deviancy and caught up in the sordid games this perverted couple liked playing, my depraved desires were being answered and exploited. Having my arse reamed while being force-fed a juicy pussy, wasn't what I'd expected this evening, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Even disregarding the money — I still couldn't believe they were paying to fuck my arse — this sort of thing just doesn't happen every day.

Charlotte's whimpers increased in volume and intensity. Coupled with the way she was bucking her hips, could only mean one thing. Determined to take her over the edge, I redoubled my efforts. I enclosed her clitoris with my lips, allowing me to nibble and suck on it while putting my fingers to work. The rhythmic cries grew quicker, as did the breathless gulps, until the moment supreme. A loud feline wail filled the 'pied-à-terre' and Charlotte's body stiffened. Sweet cum filled her cunt and my mouth as she collapsed back on the couch, shaking involuntarily while I licked her swollen clit.

Ernie's thrusts pushed me against his wife's body and a short moan accompanied each contact. Charlotte then tried holding my head away from her sensitive parts — but to no avail. 

"Darlin' I can't stand it. Stop shagging this beautiful bitch and come sit next to me. I wanna watch her ride you."

"Whatever you say, my sweet." Ernie was calm, barely out of breath, despite fucking me so hard. After withdrawing his prick from my back-passage, rather unceremoniously at that, the sheen of sweat covering his body, was clearly visible when sat next to his wife. He smiled at her. "You 'aving fun me darlin?" His wolfish smile grew broader when he turned to face me, his hand around his thick manhood. "C'mon me lovely, hop on and we can get fings going again."

"Oooh, let me." Charlotte had recovered from her orgasm and she slapped his hand away. She replaced it with her own, beckoning me with the other. As I turned my back to her husband she objected. "No, Daphne, the other way. I want to watch it enter your ass." Complying, I faced Ernie. His face lit up when he saw my full breasts jiggling at him. "Oh my God, Doll, they're truly magnificent." I hovered above his prone body and, immediately, he grabbed my buttocks and pulled them apart. He chuckled when I giggled. "You really are a tart, ain't ya love?" Grinning, I nodded and flung my arms around his muscular neck. "Make me cum, Daddy," I whispered in his ear and lowered my hips.

Charlotte guided Ernie's erection to my arsehole. After a moment's hesitation, I gave way. Hissing like an angry cobra, I sank down and my back-passage stretched to accommodate the intrusion. Instantly, a pair of mouths were licking and kissing my body. I pressed my chest into the nightclub owner's face, and strong teeth and fingers clamped onto my nipples. As he bit and pinched them, small shocks coursed through my body, and I shuddered with pleasure. 

Deep in my belly, familiar stirrings arose. I wasn't sure how long I could survive all this attention. Charlotte's tongue glided up and down my anal crack, which together with her husband's prick, got me moaning deliriously. These grew louder when she reached around my waist and pressed fingers against my clit. "Darlin', I want to taste her," Charlotte said. 

Ernie reached under my bum and easily lifted me off his cock. Loud slurping then sounded behind me.

"Hmm, she's delightful," proclaimed Charlotte before reinserting her husband's manhood where I wanted it. I bounced up and down in a manner that would have impressed a riding instructor. It definitely pleased Ernie and Charlotte. They screamed rude profanities as obscene encouragement, and I couldn't take much more. Fingers, tongues, and lips, were all used in a manner impossible for me to resist. My impending orgasm was now unstoppable.

I arched my back and the pent-up feelings became the fuel for a long scream. Muscles tensed everywhere and I trembled uncontrollably. Hot, sweet cum flooded from my cunt, covering the tops of my thighs and Charlotte's fingers. Ernie's prick seemed to grow to massive proportions as I slammed my arse into his lap. Strong fingers clamped on my nipples, as did his teeth, and my body shuddered violently as if being electrocuted. For a few seconds, I wallowed in glorious oblivion. Finally, I slumped against his massive chest and enjoyed the small aftershocks rippling through my body.

When he roared, "I'm cumming," two pairs of hands grabbed at my arse, but it was too late. I felt the first salvo of hot semen, scorch my innards before strong arms tilted me upward. His pulsating member slipped from my bum and Charlotte grabbed it. "Come on, you bastard, give me all your creamy spunk," she demanded and tugged at the greasy shaft. Ernie emitted a loud groan and bucked his hips beneath me. A second string of thick seed erupted and landed on my buttocks. Dissatisfied, Charlotte continued her rigorous onslaught. Choice words about his parentage were bandied about and her hand moved in a blur. It was as if she was punishing him for ejaculating inside me, and more moans and hip bucking followed.

Despite the sight of my backside being covered with Ernie's cum, it seemed Charlotte didn't want to forgive him. It wasn't until long after his balls were empty that she relented and began licking and kissing his wilting member. Then she turned her attention to me and cleaned up her husband's mess. By the exaggerated slurping sounds she made, plus the intermittent giggles, it was easy to assume she enjoyed her task. When she'd finished, I collapsed onto the sofa beside her husband and contemplated the future. If this was a taste of things to come, then I had no regrets about moving to London.

o0o

My ambiguous thoughts about the chest before I opened it, had dramatically changed. I'd discovered something that gave me an insight into who I was and despite the ambivalent feelings I had towards my Mum, I was glad she'd kept it.

Fascinated, I continued reading and deciphered the mysterious series of letters and numbers in the ledgers. Once you knew, it was easy. '10/7 Harry 10q BC,' simply meant she met Harry on the fourth of July and they engaged in oral sex. B was a blowjob, and C cunnilingus. Oh, and the 10q was the amount she received. Harry had forked out ten quid.

There were lots of combinations but the more common of them were self-explanatory. 'MM meant mutual masturbation, QF a quick fuck, AS anal sex. There was more: GS stood for group sex but KS took me longer to understand because it didn't appear often. It meant kinky sex. As for the amount of money Grandma charged — well, it was easy to see how she became a wealthy woman.

My smartphone beeped like an Italian racing driver on speed, disturbing my concentration. I picked it up, surprised to see it was seven o'clock. Outside the small loft window, daylight had given way to dusk. Cursing, I reluctantly replaced everything in the trunk. Something akin to euphoria washed over me, and I was sure I was glowing.

Deciding to retrieve the chest tomorrow I stood up, my legs still wobbly. If I stayed much longer, I'd be late. As it was, I would have to race against the clock to reach the Smoke in time for tonight's client. Grandma would have categorised him KS, but he paid well.

Walking to my car, I was buoyant, happy to be keeping up a family tradition.