315 Sending in a substitute
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317 Sending In A Substitute 3 free porn video
Part 3
We seriously talked about the adventure, we both knew that it had been a case of a try-out, and that having both enjoyed it in our own way we came to the conclusion that we both wanted more, deciding that we should try again closer to home, and determined to see what would happen long term.
Within “striking distance’ so to speak we had two folk who would perhaps if they proved themselves worthy, be able to visit regularly. We had “Virgin Lad” in Stoke, and “Unhappy Mike” who lived not a million miles away. Now we looked into the two a lot closer, not wishing to get another “Kentish man” again! (My friend Alibodge on hamster, had always said not to trust Kentish men, he being a man of Kent, [don’t ask it`s something to do with which side of the river Medway you are born!!]
Anyway, the notes on ‘Virgin Lad,’ said he was 19, still a virgin, scared of all women and needing a teacher, his tool at 8” desperate for a lady, and his nerves not letting him approach girls of his own age, which in a uni as he was, was proving a real challenge. Perhaps Tina was sorry for him I don’t know but if his picky was to go on, she had the hots for him that was a definite fact.
Also, in the running was an older man 65year old “Unhappy Mike” whose much loved wife was a paraplegic, and who was desperate for sex before he got the droop or was just too old. he had his wife`s blessing to find a woman to satisfy him regularly. He said he was 7”, looked fit if short, and felt that “things could be mutually beneficial!” which seemed a sensible attitude.
The first to be contacted was the lad, we arranged to meet him at a pub we knew of, up on the moorlands above Leek, that had, what had been old stables, converted for overnight guests, mostly ramblers and climbers.
It was a remote and off beat location, and we were to meet in there on the Saturday evening.
This time, we went through what was for us to become a ritual. Unlike Eastbourne, where the tiny bathroom of the holiday home would not accommodate two, and her wardrobe was so limited anyway, we were at home, and though it’s a small detached cottage, out of the town, her wardrobe is ‘extensive’ filling the smallest of the three bedrooms and our bathroom is a modern fully tiled extension built on at ground level at the rear of the place with both shower and bath and at least a fair bit of space!
Thus, it was, that during the afternoon of the Saturday in question, after a dinnertime snack, our eyes met and by silent mutual consent we adjourned to our bedroom.
She later said that she had been ‘jittery all day’ about the forthcoming sexual meeting! And as I myself had quietly been thinking of her getting what she wanted that night as well, that eye contact was the trigger we both had needed, anyway I digress.
I followed her lovely arse up our stairs and while she stood watching, I selected her clothing for the evening.
Laying it out on our bed for her, she frowned, as I selected her bra, a longline black lacy thing I had loved for a while.
I asked “why the frown, we had said I was to select the clothes to present you in?” her reply was “for you that bra is easy to open, you know the thing it`s your turn on, but for a fumbling lad, it would be a frustrating nightmare, don’t forget if he has told us the truth, and I hope he has, it`s his first time , he will be fumbling and whatever he does tonight will be etched on his mind forever!” she paused then said, “I want this to be memorable for him for all the right reasons, so we need to make it as easy as we can for him, or he may be put off for life!”
Noticing the “We,” instantly I knew she was right. I exchanged it and the rest of my mental selection, for something simpler, knowing that I had picked the clothing for my own personal taste.
The clothes now laid out, I spent the next few minutes undressing her, dumping each item in the armchair by the window, it was a chair I would come to know well over the next few months.
Naked now, the weak sunlight highlighting her body, as she stood, her hair cascading over her left shoulder, a perfect picture of pale beauty.
I reached for my camera, and took a few shots of her, while she posed for me. if only my sad tool would have done her body justice. She asked me to hold her, and for some moments we hugged, our lips together, knowing what was to come this very evening. I knelt, kissed each nipple in turn, then her mons and finally her clitorise. Her eyes closed her breathing increased, her fingers in my hair, tightening her grip.
The thought of giving her to some young man this evening was to me so erotic that I began spewing my seed involuntarily over her bare feet.
She pushed me away, saying that she felt like that too, but she wanted to be nearly as frustrated as he was, that’s why she had not had any sexual contact with me all this week, to ‘save it for the lad.’ We exchanged meaningful looks she adding in a flustered way, “we had best move on, or we would never get to that pub tonight!” hauling me back to my feet and leading me to the bathroom, my seed still wet on her feet and melting between her toes as she descended our stairs.
As we went, I asked if “she wanted shaving?” but she said that she felt that may be a step too far for him this time, and just to do her legs. So on arrival in the bathroom she sat on the toilet, I ran the bath, then applied shaving lotion to the tiny traces of stubble on her legs, savouring the touch, knowing another`s hands should be the between these legs tonight, that’s of course if he did turn up, and could overcome his fears. The razor slid over the soft skin, as she sat passively, extending each leg in turn for me to deal with, finally standing for me to check for any missed spots before, she stepped daintily into the warm water.
I soaped her, slid my hands over her body, enjoyed the smooth skin the soft nipples, stiffening to my touch, she pushed me way, her eyes telling me ‘not this time, after perhaps but I am his tonight…his…
I stepped back frustration coursing through my brain, reaching for a towel, helping her from the water, dabbing her dry, dusting her with talk, knowing I was readying her…for him … some young prick we didn’t know, who would take her with the energy of youth and…
Jealousy raged through me for a moment, bitterness that I needed to share my one treasure in life, , I had to steady myself. She wrapped a towel round her body, walked to the kitchen fetching her hair dryer and proceeded to dry her hair. I tidied the bathroom, glad of the moment to compose myself a little.
Her lovely hair dry now, still in her towel, we returned to the main bedroom, where she asked me to take a series of pictures, all of her at each stage, dressing for her young lover. Carefully doing her own make-up, applying lippy and dabs of my favourite perfume, as if to say not for you… for him…tonight! Under both my own, and my cameras gaze, she then dressed herself, taking much tender care. Hold up Stockings first, fine and silky, giving glimpses of her sex as she slid each up those lovely smooth legs, a tiny pair of white knickers, lacy white bra, in my mind it was all symbolically covering her body, hiding it`s beauty from me as if to say ‘not for you tonight,’ her dress a dark blue coloured, figure hugging low cut gown, a simple garment that I knew would turn heads, a simple set of pearls and matching earrings, with a broach to finished her ensemble as a perfect vision She downloaded and printed a set of pictures while I showered, and then dressed, it took but minutes to her skilled hands. We surveyed and selected a few, making a set, in order, tucked into an envelope as a keepsake for him.
She asked me to discretely take a few pictures during the ‘evening’ on my phone, if I could. as she wanted a record too.
She started the car, I locked up and we were soon away, traffic, suddenly heavy as we passed through Stoke, a home match ensured many fans visiting, for no doubt another home team humiliation, so not the time to be around the ground, an hour saw us through Leek and on up to the little pub. We booked in, saying our son would we hoped, be joining us soon. I doubt it fooled the publican, but it gave us some small comfort, and you can hardly say were here to get the wife fucked, can you!
The room was a double, one of the outhouse converts, luckily it had a double bed, a sofa, a tv, a wardrobe and an on-suite toilet and shower room,
We threw our wash things, such as they were into the on-suite and soon returned to the fireside in the cosy little bar, where we sat over drinks awaiting the rival of “our son!”
An hour passed, there were few other folk in and we past the time chatting with the barman, explaining we were from Nottingham, and we had arranged to meet here our son, who was in Uni in Stoke. butterflies were fluttering around my belly, and I am sure Tina`s too and we didn’t want to over egg the pudding with detail. We were on our second round of drinks with one apprehensive eye to the window, when a battered beetle drove into the yard outside, we knew instinctively it was him, I nipped out to meet him, appraise him of the situation with the bar staff and our story, and to find out his real name, I could hardly introduce him as Virgin Lad, can you!
I recognised him from the pictures he had sent, a little red of face, he said his name was Mike and understood completely as I gabbled out the story sheltering in the car in the now rain swept car park before we entered.
As I ordered him a pint, I introduced him in the bar as my son, Mike!
We collected the drink and sat at our table, Mike blushing as he met Tina for the first time, and shaking hands, which as mother and son I quickly realised would be a give-away to the barman, however a glance told me he was busy with a new order, for a newly arrived customer so all was well.
For the next couple of hours, we ate and chatted, Mike at first finding it hard to look his’ would be mother’ in the eye, stuttering and blushing if she spoke direct to him, we dragged it out a little, as it seemed a little more in keeping with our pretend meeting, and it gave the lad some time to acclimatise.
Slowly I noticed, he lost his stammer and his blushes, Tina teasing the story of his life from him, his loss of his mother at 7, his fathers, harsh treatment, and his life in a boys boarding school, and later the uni, and his acute embarrassment with the opposite sex. Slowly oh so slowly he thawed, she was marvellous with him, a real tonic to watch, slowly breaking down his mental barrier. The fact he was here to sleep with my wife, well, that was never mentioned, in fact sex was the only subject that was avoided, rather like plague. I sat fascinated watching my wife verbally overcoming his whole lifetime of worries about women.
By ten the little pub was full, and we slipped away. ‘Mother’ taking her sons arm and guiding him to the room across the wet car park, the couple of pints it seems having assisted in easing his mental processes… I surely hoped so.
I opened the door and we were soon in the warm dry room, his eyes taking in the whole room in a sweep. Coats, damp from the walk across the car park were hung up, and Tina put on the kettle for coffee. He sat on the sofa, I went to the toilet, and Tina, served coffee, all very normal. She took her place beside him, I sat on the bed. At last my wife broached the subject of his sex-life. he looked grave, explained that he was normally frightened by women generally, that he had come near to turning back during his trip here this evening, but had persisted as he knew he needed to overcome what he referred to as his phobia! That now he was at least feeling more comfortable with her he felt, though he knew not why, less stressed.
She smiled, flattered by his words, explaining again my sexual disabilities, her need for sex, her wish to be used by a man, a stand in, be it young or old, explain that she thought they could be mutually helpful to one another, and that I as her hubby, understood her needs and would not interfere, which I confirmed. He nodded, still shy, we had covered all this on hamster, but we all knew it was better to reiterate.
She took his hand, looked deep into his eyes and led his hand to her breast outside her button fronted dress, it was make or break time.
There was a silence you could cut, broken only by the rain, beating on the windows, and I suspect my heartbeat.
Gently oh so very gently his fingers began to dance across the blue dress, she smiled at him, encouragement enough it was like a key to a locked door in his head. Galvanised into action, the hands began to roam, both now in action running over the dress and the body in it like a blind man searching.
Her grin broadened, she stood, hauling him up, he stood, she kissed him, no mother son peck this, a full-on lovers embrace, he blushed, took stock and air, then after a glance at me, to which I nodded my assent, like a horse from the starting tape, he was off and running.
Lips crushed hers, his fingers found, just as she had planned, the front opening buttons, the dress fell open, then with her help, off to the floor, I collected it to save it being trampled.
Her body under the single lightbulb in this room glowing golden brown, the stark white underclothing contrasting to the chestnut flow of her hair, she looked magnificent. It was a picture I should long remember, not least as I took a photograph. He looked at me, spooked, when the flash went off, and we both reassured him that it was for us not the world and that he would receive copies, which he surprisingly accepted
She kissed him to return his to mind to her and had to encourage him to search for and unclip the front opening bra, his worries about touching a woman, still obviously a problem he was urgently trying to address. The change to the easier opened bra being vindicated, as shaking fingers opened the single clip and the to him magic sight of real warm, live tits, tumbled into view. His face like a c***d in a shop full of sweets a mix of extasy, expectation, passion and terror that the treats were just a dream and he would wake up soon. Another priceless picture.
As I scooped up the dumped bra and moved to the sofa to be more comfortable, and to give them free run at the bed when the time came. Time meant nothing now to this lad, gnawing on those delightful teats like a dog with a bone, it was everything, Shangri-La, and heaven and paradise rolled into one.
She had to slow his gallop, or he would have done her some damage so forceful was his assault, she hauled his face to hers and whispered “easy tiger, tonight they are yours, but gently!
The blush returned, and she was quick to stifle his apologies. Asking him to strip off for her as in her words “she wanted to appraise the goods!” it took our hero but 30 seconds, blushing profusely it is true, but he was going to go for it, clothes dumped on the floor naked as a jay bird, his eyes fixed on her face, desperate for her approval.
She knelt gave his rampant circumcised cock a good dose of looking at then looked deep into his eyes and to his relief said that “it was magnificent, and so big the biggest she had seen so far!” (a blatant lie but she knew it was what he needed to hear) he grinned, then went back to kissing her, first on her lips, then her neck, she looking over his shoulder at me and catching my eye, as if to say was I enjoying the spectacle. Which by now I was totally, all my previous doubts about my emotional state having vanished, to be replaced by simple lust, and my hand wrapped round that useless sausage in my trousers, like a small boy with his first magazine!
She grinned! He was back at those nipples. Her hands found his very erect tool and he instantly came in great gouts, splashing her legs, and the bed spread behind her in equal amounts.
Before he could apologise, she kissed him rapidly and said, “she was not surprised, and it meant that he would last longer later!” which went a long way towards calming his embarrassment.
I dabbed the slime from the bedspread during the exchange, and she then encouraged the lad to lay his hands on her hips and to begin removing her last barrier, those lacy panties. Nervously he did as her hands bade him. Slowly, oh so slowly the tiny white garment descended, his eyes never once leaving hers, almost as though he was terrified of what he may find revealed. The white scrap dropped from his grasp lodging round her dainty ankles, the shoes long disguarded, though when I couldn’t tell you. she lifted her left foot clear easily, but the rag refused to budge from her right foot and I reached forward to disentangle it, then holding it to my nose and inhaling the aroma of my own over-excited wife, in a moment of shear and unadulterated bliss, all scruples now long vanished.
I felt her eyes on me and looked up into a face full of loving and understanding, that told me she was mine forever and extremely happy in one single glimpse.
She fell back onto the bed, her legs dangling over the end, her arms dragging him to her as she went. Lips again welded to his. Together they hugged, then, she whispered loudly that she would lay on the bed and he should take a moment or two to explore her, and to understand that women like men were just not as scary as he had so far believed. She disengaged herself and scooted herself up to a pillow, laying on her back as she did so. Like a sacrifice she lay legs open waiting his touch and his gaze, her hair loose over the white pillowcase like a chestnut fountain, her pubic bush directly under that lightbulb, highlighted for her young lover. Her breasts flattened and spread like eggs in a pan, she was perfect. He touched her tenderly, as if she was porcelain, lightly and tentively slithering his amazed hands over her skin in amazement. Here was one of those women creatures, willingly letting him explore her body, that untouchable, unreachable goal he had been so terrified of only hours before… his fingers found her bush, running themselves through the more-wiry hair of her bushy pubes, in amazement, finding the crinkly soft as butter lips of her sex and slithering his fingertips along their crease to murmurs of soft encouragement. Tenderly those tremulous didget`s opened those lovely soft lips, desperate to find that button, that tiny female penis, he had read of and seen in books or online. It lay stiff from arousal half hidden by that soft pink hood. It was magic, a dream come true at last and without telling he instinctively kissed the tiny hub, eliciting a groan from my wife that spoke volumes. Her eyes closed tightly now, as his tongue lapped at that wet and secret world so long denied him. It was a moment the three of us would long savour.
Long, long moments past, her breathing deepened and shortened, I knew she was oh so close, her back arched, her fingers clenched, and she groaned, a long ecstatic groan of joy, of release and shear lust. Without penetration, or sophistication, or expertise, this young and virginal lad had brought my wife to a climax of huge proportions. Grinning now as he worked, he did not miss a single beat of his tongue, his ministrations urged on by the first female climax he had ever induced.
Her eyes eventually opened, her hands pulling his head to hers her lips savouring the taste of her own spend from his mouth and chin.
He lay along her length, body against her left hip, his stiff tool on her hip itself, dribbling precum, and looking livid. She opened her legs wider, an obvious invite, but he hesitated, this final hurdle, one he was torn between his conscience and his lust!
She had no such hesitations, taking hold of the thing in a commanding way and leading it to her body dragging his body behind it! She located the tip then left the last bit to him, this time he did not hesitate, sinking deep into her with a groan that said it all. They lay connected for a brief time, no doubt both savouring both the moment, and the feelings, then he gently began that age old dance.
It was gentle, and it was slow, delicate rhythm so she said in his ear that” she was not delicate, she wanted sex, hard, and a fierce battering,” and that “it was not some pussyfooting wishy-washy soft game, hammer that big tool of yours into me, really give me the works, you are not an old man, beat my guts with it, hammer me, make me your bitch go on!” With every
Comment the pace increased, he was soon beating a tattoo of the headboard against the wall at a pace only a fit lad could manage, her eyeballs shaking her grunts and groans loud and long, her breathing again raising to a gasping rasp, as she came again and then again, the third time receiving his seed just as her own wave broke, it was awesome to watch.
They lay sated, together, collapsed. She prising herself from under him as soon as the now limp tool slid from her very wet sex. They kissed, he thanked her. I made coffee.
We sat, on that old sofa, Tina in the centre, both of them still naked, then he asked if I had had a good evening, as if I had attended a play or film. Grinning I explained that I had filled my hand more than once during the performance and that I was oh so happy for my wife, he having done what I could not. He thanked me sincerely, then thanked her kissing her hand and saying he felt this horrible fear of women was at least receding thanks to us both, especially with ‘mother’ and her patience. he had no hint of a stutter now and with no outward signs of bashfulness either, at least with us, we sat, he apologising for losing control, and perhaps hurting her he being “so hard on her,” but saying “she did egg him on a bit!” which made me smile.
She grinned said it was “the best screwing she had had in years, literally years!” and that “there was no harm done, women were built to take that sort of a sexual hammering!” he looked mightily relieved. We drank the coffee.
He said, “perhaps he should soon go as we would want to get to bed!” we exchanged glances, I asked if he really wanted to go? And that my wife was his tonight, I would sleep on the couch and he could share the bed with her!
His face another picture of joy as he realised, I was not k**ding.
During that night the restorative strength of youth allowed him to take her twice more, in fact I awoke to the irregular beat of the headboard yet again at six the next morning. Tina was sore, bow legged and hardly able to stand all day. We all leaving for home about 11a.m after a great british breakfast, exchanging mobile numbers and promising to keep in touch and to send on the new pictures. leaving him with the envelope of pictures of Tina getting dressed, and her knickers as a memento! He left a bolder more confident lad, and we drove home jubilant if tired.
We seriously talked about the adventure, we both knew that it had been a case of a try-out, and that having both enjoyed it in our own way we came to the conclusion that we both wanted more, deciding that we should try again closer to home, and determined to see what would happen long term.
Within “striking distance’ so to speak we had two folk who would perhaps if they proved themselves worthy, be able to visit regularly. We had “Virgin Lad” in Stoke, and “Unhappy Mike” who lived not a million miles away. Now we looked into the two a lot closer, not wishing to get another “Kentish man” again! (My friend Alibodge on hamster, had always said not to trust Kentish men, he being a man of Kent, [don’t ask it`s something to do with which side of the river Medway you are born!!]
Anyway, the notes on ‘Virgin Lad,’ said he was 19, still a virgin, scared of all women and needing a teacher, his tool at 8” desperate for a lady, and his nerves not letting him approach girls of his own age, which in a uni as he was, was proving a real challenge. Perhaps Tina was sorry for him I don’t know but if his picky was to go on, she had the hots for him that was a definite fact.
Also, in the running was an older man 65year old “Unhappy Mike” whose much loved wife was a paraplegic, and who was desperate for sex before he got the droop or was just too old. he had his wife`s blessing to find a woman to satisfy him regularly. He said he was 7”, looked fit if short, and felt that “things could be mutually beneficial!” which seemed a sensible attitude.
The first to be contacted was the lad, we arranged to meet him at a pub we knew of, up on the moorlands above Leek, that had, what had been old stables, converted for overnight guests, mostly ramblers and climbers.
It was a remote and off beat location, and we were to meet in there on the Saturday evening.
This time, we went through what was for us to become a ritual. Unlike Eastbourne, where the tiny bathroom of the holiday home would not accommodate two, and her wardrobe was so limited anyway, we were at home, and though it’s a small detached cottage, out of the town, her wardrobe is ‘extensive’ filling the smallest of the three bedrooms and our bathroom is a modern fully tiled extension built on at ground level at the rear of the place with both shower and bath and at least a fair bit of space!
Thus, it was, that during the afternoon of the Saturday in question, after a dinnertime snack, our eyes met and by silent mutual consent we adjourned to our bedroom.
She later said that she had been ‘jittery all day’ about the forthcoming sexual meeting! And as I myself had quietly been thinking of her getting what she wanted that night as well, that eye contact was the trigger we both had needed, anyway I digress.
I followed her lovely arse up our stairs and while she stood watching, I selected her clothing for the evening.
Laying it out on our bed for her, she frowned, as I selected her bra, a longline black lacy thing I had loved for a while.
I asked “why the frown, we had said I was to select the clothes to present you in?” her reply was “for you that bra is easy to open, you know the thing it`s your turn on, but for a fumbling lad, it would be a frustrating nightmare, don’t forget if he has told us the truth, and I hope he has, it`s his first time , he will be fumbling and whatever he does tonight will be etched on his mind forever!” she paused then said, “I want this to be memorable for him for all the right reasons, so we need to make it as easy as we can for him, or he may be put off for life!”
Noticing the “We,” instantly I knew she was right. I exchanged it and the rest of my mental selection, for something simpler, knowing that I had picked the clothing for my own personal taste.
The clothes now laid out, I spent the next few minutes undressing her, dumping each item in the armchair by the window, it was a chair I would come to know well over the next few months.
Naked now, the weak sunlight highlighting her body, as she stood, her hair cascading over her left shoulder, a perfect picture of pale beauty.
I reached for my camera, and took a few shots of her, while she posed for me. if only my sad tool would have done her body justice. She asked me to hold her, and for some moments we hugged, our lips together, knowing what was to come this very evening. I knelt, kissed each nipple in turn, then her mons and finally her clitorise. Her eyes closed her breathing increased, her fingers in my hair, tightening her grip.
The thought of giving her to some young man this evening was to me so erotic that I began spewing my seed involuntarily over her bare feet.
She pushed me away, saying that she felt like that too, but she wanted to be nearly as frustrated as he was, that’s why she had not had any sexual contact with me all this week, to ‘save it for the lad.’ We exchanged meaningful looks she adding in a flustered way, “we had best move on, or we would never get to that pub tonight!” hauling me back to my feet and leading me to the bathroom, my seed still wet on her feet and melting between her toes as she descended our stairs.
As we went, I asked if “she wanted shaving?” but she said that she felt that may be a step too far for him this time, and just to do her legs. So on arrival in the bathroom she sat on the toilet, I ran the bath, then applied shaving lotion to the tiny traces of stubble on her legs, savouring the touch, knowing another`s hands should be the between these legs tonight, that’s of course if he did turn up, and could overcome his fears. The razor slid over the soft skin, as she sat passively, extending each leg in turn for me to deal with, finally standing for me to check for any missed spots before, she stepped daintily into the warm water.
I soaped her, slid my hands over her body, enjoyed the smooth skin the soft nipples, stiffening to my touch, she pushed me way, her eyes telling me ‘not this time, after perhaps but I am his tonight…his…
I stepped back frustration coursing through my brain, reaching for a towel, helping her from the water, dabbing her dry, dusting her with talk, knowing I was readying her…for him … some young prick we didn’t know, who would take her with the energy of youth and…
Jealousy raged through me for a moment, bitterness that I needed to share my one treasure in life, , I had to steady myself. She wrapped a towel round her body, walked to the kitchen fetching her hair dryer and proceeded to dry her hair. I tidied the bathroom, glad of the moment to compose myself a little.
Her lovely hair dry now, still in her towel, we returned to the main bedroom, where she asked me to take a series of pictures, all of her at each stage, dressing for her young lover. Carefully doing her own make-up, applying lippy and dabs of my favourite perfume, as if to say not for you… for him…tonight! Under both my own, and my cameras gaze, she then dressed herself, taking much tender care. Hold up Stockings first, fine and silky, giving glimpses of her sex as she slid each up those lovely smooth legs, a tiny pair of white knickers, lacy white bra, in my mind it was all symbolically covering her body, hiding it`s beauty from me as if to say ‘not for you tonight,’ her dress a dark blue coloured, figure hugging low cut gown, a simple garment that I knew would turn heads, a simple set of pearls and matching earrings, with a broach to finished her ensemble as a perfect vision She downloaded and printed a set of pictures while I showered, and then dressed, it took but minutes to her skilled hands. We surveyed and selected a few, making a set, in order, tucked into an envelope as a keepsake for him.
She asked me to discretely take a few pictures during the ‘evening’ on my phone, if I could. as she wanted a record too.
She started the car, I locked up and we were soon away, traffic, suddenly heavy as we passed through Stoke, a home match ensured many fans visiting, for no doubt another home team humiliation, so not the time to be around the ground, an hour saw us through Leek and on up to the little pub. We booked in, saying our son would we hoped, be joining us soon. I doubt it fooled the publican, but it gave us some small comfort, and you can hardly say were here to get the wife fucked, can you!
The room was a double, one of the outhouse converts, luckily it had a double bed, a sofa, a tv, a wardrobe and an on-suite toilet and shower room,
We threw our wash things, such as they were into the on-suite and soon returned to the fireside in the cosy little bar, where we sat over drinks awaiting the rival of “our son!”
An hour passed, there were few other folk in and we past the time chatting with the barman, explaining we were from Nottingham, and we had arranged to meet here our son, who was in Uni in Stoke. butterflies were fluttering around my belly, and I am sure Tina`s too and we didn’t want to over egg the pudding with detail. We were on our second round of drinks with one apprehensive eye to the window, when a battered beetle drove into the yard outside, we knew instinctively it was him, I nipped out to meet him, appraise him of the situation with the bar staff and our story, and to find out his real name, I could hardly introduce him as Virgin Lad, can you!
I recognised him from the pictures he had sent, a little red of face, he said his name was Mike and understood completely as I gabbled out the story sheltering in the car in the now rain swept car park before we entered.
As I ordered him a pint, I introduced him in the bar as my son, Mike!
We collected the drink and sat at our table, Mike blushing as he met Tina for the first time, and shaking hands, which as mother and son I quickly realised would be a give-away to the barman, however a glance told me he was busy with a new order, for a newly arrived customer so all was well.
For the next couple of hours, we ate and chatted, Mike at first finding it hard to look his’ would be mother’ in the eye, stuttering and blushing if she spoke direct to him, we dragged it out a little, as it seemed a little more in keeping with our pretend meeting, and it gave the lad some time to acclimatise.
Slowly I noticed, he lost his stammer and his blushes, Tina teasing the story of his life from him, his loss of his mother at 7, his fathers, harsh treatment, and his life in a boys boarding school, and later the uni, and his acute embarrassment with the opposite sex. Slowly oh so slowly he thawed, she was marvellous with him, a real tonic to watch, slowly breaking down his mental barrier. The fact he was here to sleep with my wife, well, that was never mentioned, in fact sex was the only subject that was avoided, rather like plague. I sat fascinated watching my wife verbally overcoming his whole lifetime of worries about women.
By ten the little pub was full, and we slipped away. ‘Mother’ taking her sons arm and guiding him to the room across the wet car park, the couple of pints it seems having assisted in easing his mental processes… I surely hoped so.
I opened the door and we were soon in the warm dry room, his eyes taking in the whole room in a sweep. Coats, damp from the walk across the car park were hung up, and Tina put on the kettle for coffee. He sat on the sofa, I went to the toilet, and Tina, served coffee, all very normal. She took her place beside him, I sat on the bed. At last my wife broached the subject of his sex-life. he looked grave, explained that he was normally frightened by women generally, that he had come near to turning back during his trip here this evening, but had persisted as he knew he needed to overcome what he referred to as his phobia! That now he was at least feeling more comfortable with her he felt, though he knew not why, less stressed.
She smiled, flattered by his words, explaining again my sexual disabilities, her need for sex, her wish to be used by a man, a stand in, be it young or old, explain that she thought they could be mutually helpful to one another, and that I as her hubby, understood her needs and would not interfere, which I confirmed. He nodded, still shy, we had covered all this on hamster, but we all knew it was better to reiterate.
She took his hand, looked deep into his eyes and led his hand to her breast outside her button fronted dress, it was make or break time.
There was a silence you could cut, broken only by the rain, beating on the windows, and I suspect my heartbeat.
Gently oh so very gently his fingers began to dance across the blue dress, she smiled at him, encouragement enough it was like a key to a locked door in his head. Galvanised into action, the hands began to roam, both now in action running over the dress and the body in it like a blind man searching.
Her grin broadened, she stood, hauling him up, he stood, she kissed him, no mother son peck this, a full-on lovers embrace, he blushed, took stock and air, then after a glance at me, to which I nodded my assent, like a horse from the starting tape, he was off and running.
Lips crushed hers, his fingers found, just as she had planned, the front opening buttons, the dress fell open, then with her help, off to the floor, I collected it to save it being trampled.
Her body under the single lightbulb in this room glowing golden brown, the stark white underclothing contrasting to the chestnut flow of her hair, she looked magnificent. It was a picture I should long remember, not least as I took a photograph. He looked at me, spooked, when the flash went off, and we both reassured him that it was for us not the world and that he would receive copies, which he surprisingly accepted
She kissed him to return his to mind to her and had to encourage him to search for and unclip the front opening bra, his worries about touching a woman, still obviously a problem he was urgently trying to address. The change to the easier opened bra being vindicated, as shaking fingers opened the single clip and the to him magic sight of real warm, live tits, tumbled into view. His face like a c***d in a shop full of sweets a mix of extasy, expectation, passion and terror that the treats were just a dream and he would wake up soon. Another priceless picture.
As I scooped up the dumped bra and moved to the sofa to be more comfortable, and to give them free run at the bed when the time came. Time meant nothing now to this lad, gnawing on those delightful teats like a dog with a bone, it was everything, Shangri-La, and heaven and paradise rolled into one.
She had to slow his gallop, or he would have done her some damage so forceful was his assault, she hauled his face to hers and whispered “easy tiger, tonight they are yours, but gently!
The blush returned, and she was quick to stifle his apologies. Asking him to strip off for her as in her words “she wanted to appraise the goods!” it took our hero but 30 seconds, blushing profusely it is true, but he was going to go for it, clothes dumped on the floor naked as a jay bird, his eyes fixed on her face, desperate for her approval.
She knelt gave his rampant circumcised cock a good dose of looking at then looked deep into his eyes and to his relief said that “it was magnificent, and so big the biggest she had seen so far!” (a blatant lie but she knew it was what he needed to hear) he grinned, then went back to kissing her, first on her lips, then her neck, she looking over his shoulder at me and catching my eye, as if to say was I enjoying the spectacle. Which by now I was totally, all my previous doubts about my emotional state having vanished, to be replaced by simple lust, and my hand wrapped round that useless sausage in my trousers, like a small boy with his first magazine!
She grinned! He was back at those nipples. Her hands found his very erect tool and he instantly came in great gouts, splashing her legs, and the bed spread behind her in equal amounts.
Before he could apologise, she kissed him rapidly and said, “she was not surprised, and it meant that he would last longer later!” which went a long way towards calming his embarrassment.
I dabbed the slime from the bedspread during the exchange, and she then encouraged the lad to lay his hands on her hips and to begin removing her last barrier, those lacy panties. Nervously he did as her hands bade him. Slowly, oh so slowly the tiny white garment descended, his eyes never once leaving hers, almost as though he was terrified of what he may find revealed. The white scrap dropped from his grasp lodging round her dainty ankles, the shoes long disguarded, though when I couldn’t tell you. she lifted her left foot clear easily, but the rag refused to budge from her right foot and I reached forward to disentangle it, then holding it to my nose and inhaling the aroma of my own over-excited wife, in a moment of shear and unadulterated bliss, all scruples now long vanished.
I felt her eyes on me and looked up into a face full of loving and understanding, that told me she was mine forever and extremely happy in one single glimpse.
She fell back onto the bed, her legs dangling over the end, her arms dragging him to her as she went. Lips again welded to his. Together they hugged, then, she whispered loudly that she would lay on the bed and he should take a moment or two to explore her, and to understand that women like men were just not as scary as he had so far believed. She disengaged herself and scooted herself up to a pillow, laying on her back as she did so. Like a sacrifice she lay legs open waiting his touch and his gaze, her hair loose over the white pillowcase like a chestnut fountain, her pubic bush directly under that lightbulb, highlighted for her young lover. Her breasts flattened and spread like eggs in a pan, she was perfect. He touched her tenderly, as if she was porcelain, lightly and tentively slithering his amazed hands over her skin in amazement. Here was one of those women creatures, willingly letting him explore her body, that untouchable, unreachable goal he had been so terrified of only hours before… his fingers found her bush, running themselves through the more-wiry hair of her bushy pubes, in amazement, finding the crinkly soft as butter lips of her sex and slithering his fingertips along their crease to murmurs of soft encouragement. Tenderly those tremulous didget`s opened those lovely soft lips, desperate to find that button, that tiny female penis, he had read of and seen in books or online. It lay stiff from arousal half hidden by that soft pink hood. It was magic, a dream come true at last and without telling he instinctively kissed the tiny hub, eliciting a groan from my wife that spoke volumes. Her eyes closed tightly now, as his tongue lapped at that wet and secret world so long denied him. It was a moment the three of us would long savour.
Long, long moments past, her breathing deepened and shortened, I knew she was oh so close, her back arched, her fingers clenched, and she groaned, a long ecstatic groan of joy, of release and shear lust. Without penetration, or sophistication, or expertise, this young and virginal lad had brought my wife to a climax of huge proportions. Grinning now as he worked, he did not miss a single beat of his tongue, his ministrations urged on by the first female climax he had ever induced.
Her eyes eventually opened, her hands pulling his head to hers her lips savouring the taste of her own spend from his mouth and chin.
He lay along her length, body against her left hip, his stiff tool on her hip itself, dribbling precum, and looking livid. She opened her legs wider, an obvious invite, but he hesitated, this final hurdle, one he was torn between his conscience and his lust!
She had no such hesitations, taking hold of the thing in a commanding way and leading it to her body dragging his body behind it! She located the tip then left the last bit to him, this time he did not hesitate, sinking deep into her with a groan that said it all. They lay connected for a brief time, no doubt both savouring both the moment, and the feelings, then he gently began that age old dance.
It was gentle, and it was slow, delicate rhythm so she said in his ear that” she was not delicate, she wanted sex, hard, and a fierce battering,” and that “it was not some pussyfooting wishy-washy soft game, hammer that big tool of yours into me, really give me the works, you are not an old man, beat my guts with it, hammer me, make me your bitch go on!” With every
Comment the pace increased, he was soon beating a tattoo of the headboard against the wall at a pace only a fit lad could manage, her eyeballs shaking her grunts and groans loud and long, her breathing again raising to a gasping rasp, as she came again and then again, the third time receiving his seed just as her own wave broke, it was awesome to watch.
They lay sated, together, collapsed. She prising herself from under him as soon as the now limp tool slid from her very wet sex. They kissed, he thanked her. I made coffee.
We sat, on that old sofa, Tina in the centre, both of them still naked, then he asked if I had had a good evening, as if I had attended a play or film. Grinning I explained that I had filled my hand more than once during the performance and that I was oh so happy for my wife, he having done what I could not. He thanked me sincerely, then thanked her kissing her hand and saying he felt this horrible fear of women was at least receding thanks to us both, especially with ‘mother’ and her patience. he had no hint of a stutter now and with no outward signs of bashfulness either, at least with us, we sat, he apologising for losing control, and perhaps hurting her he being “so hard on her,” but saying “she did egg him on a bit!” which made me smile.
She grinned said it was “the best screwing she had had in years, literally years!” and that “there was no harm done, women were built to take that sort of a sexual hammering!” he looked mightily relieved. We drank the coffee.
He said, “perhaps he should soon go as we would want to get to bed!” we exchanged glances, I asked if he really wanted to go? And that my wife was his tonight, I would sleep on the couch and he could share the bed with her!
His face another picture of joy as he realised, I was not k**ding.
During that night the restorative strength of youth allowed him to take her twice more, in fact I awoke to the irregular beat of the headboard yet again at six the next morning. Tina was sore, bow legged and hardly able to stand all day. We all leaving for home about 11a.m after a great british breakfast, exchanging mobile numbers and promising to keep in touch and to send on the new pictures. leaving him with the envelope of pictures of Tina getting dressed, and her knickers as a memento! He left a bolder more confident lad, and we drove home jubilant if tired.
Libbie
- 08.03.2022
- 30
- 0
