Katherine becomes a Lady
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The Acquisitive Lady free porn video
‘It’s time we got rid of this antique plumbing, get some modern stuff, you’d like that, wouldn’t you sweetheart?’
‘Another bribe to keep me quiet,’ I thought. Ben was always coming up with something to shut me up.
‘I could get all the stuff we need, new bath, hand basin, sink and pipes. All we need to do is get the plumber in to install it.’
‘Yes, I bet he could ‘get all the stuff’,’ I mused. Ben always knew someone who knew someone who had an uncle who…. Ben who was as in ‘Import – Export,’ which really meant he had a lot of shonky mates with whom he did shady deals he called ‘business.’ You know, deals out of sight of the taxman and police – stuff that just happened to fall off the back of a lorry or someone happened to be selling in the pub.
Still, it was a good idea. The existing plumbing had been put in the cottage on the cheap some time back in the nineteen thirties and the iron pipes were choked up with some alkaline stuff and the water only dribbled out of the taps.
I say ‘cottage’ because that is what the place is called, ‘The Cottage.’ If that conjures up in your mind a quaint thatched place, forget it, it’s more like a mini mansion that I was supposed to keep clean and tidy while Ben was off making his deals, and other things I suspected.
You might be getting the impression I didn’t like Ben very much, and you’d be right. Why had I married him and why did I stay married to him? I’ll tell you in one word, ‘Money’.
Where I come from money is scarce and a good looking girl wants the best deal she can get, and that means financial security. I had the looks and I wanted the best deal, so in a way I suppose that makes me no better than Ben.
I’d better give a description of myself and Ben.
I’m five feet eight, long darkish blonde hair, big blue eyes, nicely chiselled nose, wide mouth with full lips. Breasts? Yes, you guessed it, 38DD, narrow waist, hips to match the bosom and lovely long legs that guys always wanted to get to the top of. I had plenty of female assets and I was going to sell them to the highest bidder.
Ben turned out to be that highest bidder. He’s five feet four, balding, plump and his breath always smells fishy. In addition he is twenty years older than me. But he had the main asset I was looking for at that time, the moolah.
He had a warehouse underneath the railway arches near our place where he kept his ‘Stock,’ as he called it. I used to pass it on my way to and from the shop I worked in. One day we got talking and one thing led to another. Of course, he didn’t have marriage in mind, and in the phony American accent he sometimes affected he put the proposition to me, ‘Hey babe, you and me could have a great time together.’
‘Nothing doing,’ I told him. I was hanging out for marriage and nothing less. He was so horny looking at my bosom he finally surrendered and asked me to marry him. Security was won!
My mum and dad didn’t like him, but when he started to bring them things he just ‘happened to have got’ his hands on, they relented and told me what a lucky girl I was.
So that was it. We got married and came to live in The Cottage on the outskirts of a village miles out of town.
For a while he fucked me like a pig. Come to think of it, I don’t really know how a pig fucks and perhaps I’m insulting pigs. Let’s just say he had a nasty way with him in bed.
One of the things I discovered was, that however good looking you are, if a guy marries you just for bedtime, the icing can go off the cake fairly quickly. A couple of years after we were married Ben’s bed performances dropped off remarkably and his need to be away ‘on business’ kept pace with the decline in sexual activity with me.
So why did he stay with me?
Well, there was something of an unspoken deal between us. Even if he didn’t fuck me very often, he was business man enough to realise he had an asset in me. ‘You keep your looks and I’ll come up with the money,’ was the deal.
You see, beyond that he expected me to ‘be nice to’ his ‘colleagues’ as he called them. This included letting them ogle my tits and let them fumble me a bit. To put it another way, I was part of his business assets, and when he couldn’t close a lucrative deal I was supposed to do it for him.
Don’t get me wrong. It was never bed time with any of his grotty colleagues, just the promise of delights to come if the deal was struck – a promise I made sure I never kept.
Perhaps you think that we were a pair well matched, and you’re probably right up to a point. There I was, twenty five years old, undoubtedly sexy and well looked after financially. All I had to do was be a ‘good girl,’ not enquire too deeply about what Ben got up to on his so-called business trips – not that I cared very much – and I got the goodies, including new plumbing.
On the down side I was bloody bored.
Ben was as usual as good as his word, as he always was when it came to giving me the things he could do deals over. Consequently various items of plumbing began to arrive at The Cottage over the course of a couple of weeks, mainly delivered after dark.
These were followed a week later by several plumbers who came to look the situation over and make their offer for the work. The one chosen was a dismal middle aged man who always looked as if he’d just received bad news. His name was ‘Arry’ (Harry), and he was accompanied by a young man around nineteen years old who was introduced as, ‘Me apprentice Morrie’ (Maurice).
In female fashion I noted that Maurice was a nice looking well set up young bloke, but beyond that I let them get on with the job.
‘The job’ seemed at first to consist of hammering, chiselling and sundry other noises interspersed with, ‘Push it to me,’ ‘Just lift that end,’ and similar communications. Added to this was the inconvenience of various items of existing plumbing going out of service from time to time as the old was removed and the new installed.
I bore this with patience since at least it broke the monotony of the rural silence that usually prevailed, except when such exciting events as a farm tractor passing The Cottage took place.
What an awful woman I must sound to you! You might say that I could have involved myself in village affairs, done charitable work, gone to church and so forth. I suppose I could have, but my city upbringing had never prepared me for that sort of life. Since my personal Saab sat in the garage I could also have taken trips to the city, but I rarely did.
Why was this? I think the trouble was I was depressed. I’d got the money and The Cottage, a fancy car, but there was something missing. I just didn’t seem to be able to get off my butt and do things. I even had wistful thoughts about the shop I used to work in and the manager with his wandering hands and five kids.
I began to get some entertainment when I decided to offer the plumbers tea and coffee during their breaks. ‘Arry’ regaled me with stories of gloom and doom and informed me that the end of the world was arriving soon with ‘The Second Coming.’ Maurice on the other hand told of games of rugby he played and who he was dating ‘next weekend.’
His talk of dating sent a pang of nostalgia through me, recalling my teenage years holding sweaty hands in cinemas, bodies pressed close while dancing and fighting off fumbling hands on a park seat late at night.
Maurice was no different from other males I met. I saw him looking at me with big brown contemplative eyes. He was a nice looking boy, strong and healthy but with a pensive look about him. He was not a bit like the ominous ‘Arry, or for that matter any sort of plumber I had ever imagined. I must admit I hadn’t often dwelt imaginatively on plumbers.
The work went on a lot longer than I expected, with things being dragged out and new things being installed. This had the inconvenience of not being able to use some appliances, but in additi
on, the fact that the more I saw of Maurice the more I liked him.
This I thought was not good. I had been relieved when Ben’s sexual interest in me declined and I didn’t have to listen to his groaning and snuffling as he fucked me, but I was young, healthy and fertile.
Ben didn’t want kids because, as he put it, ‘It’ll spoil your tits.’ When it came to sex with me he was a ‘belt and braces man.’ He insisted that I be on the pill and at the same time he used a condom on the grounds that, ‘Nothing is a hundred percent safe.’ Just like him to think in percentages!
If I’d had a kid or two I might have been more content with my situation, but on the other hand I wasn’t sure I wanted to breed with Ben. The thought of a couple of little Bens around the place I found abhorrent.
I’d never had an orgasm with Ben from day one of our marriage, and to meet my female needs in this respect I gratified myself with a dildo or a vibrator, neither item having been acquired through Ben’s ‘connections.’ These gave some relief for my female urges, but since Ben had been the only man I had ever had sex with, I did begin to wonder what it would be like with really potent lover who did not stink of fish.
That was where young Maurice came over my horizon. I imagined him with his dates and the things they got up to, perhaps in the back of his car or, if they were more fortunate, in the comfortable circumstances of a real bed. The more I thought about this the more I wondered what it would be like with him.
I tried to imagine this when I gratified myself and I found that his fantasy image rose up before me with no difficulty.
Since the only time I saw Maurice was in company with ‘Arry, nothing was likely to occur, besides, what would the lady of a mini-manor be doing bedding a young plumber? No, for all Maurice’s yearning glances, I could hardly put my somewhat luxurious situation in jeopardy. In any case the job would eventually be finished and Maurice would depart.
Nature has a curious way of overtaking us at times. On the one hand there is the instinct for acquisition of this world’s goods, and on the other there are our basic sexual desires, or at least, that was the case with me. Where the two can be brought together in one relationship, fine, but that wasn’t my situation. Thus there was a battle raging inside me as these two elements fought each other.
Despite the battle all might have passed with Maurice’s departure and in time dreams of him would have faded. Then fate or whatever it is intervened.
One morning Maurice turned up for work alone.
‘Where’s ‘Arry?’ I asked.
‘Gone down with the flue,’ Maurice replied.
Ben was off on one of his business trips that probably meant with some tart he was currently fucking, and who got some of the monetary spin-off from his wheeling and dealing. I was alone with Maurice!
That day the kitchen appliances were due to be finished and walking into the kitchen to boil some water to make coffee for us, I discovered Maurice, head under the sink, legs stretched out on the floor, struggling with something under the sink.
Muffled curses emanated from under the sink as he struggled with whatever it was. Had ‘Arry been there the job would no doubt have been easier, so I asked, ‘Can I help?’
Maurice’s head emerged from under the sink. ‘Would you really help? It’d make things a lot easier. I’m trying to tighten this nut, but the thing keeps turning around.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
He stood up and taking a sort of two-pronged gadget from his tool kits he put the prongs into that grating thing in the sink and said, ‘If you could hold that I can tighten the rotten thing.’
His head disappeared under the sink again and as his legs stuck out right in front of the sink so I had to straddle them. The tightening process was re-commenced and completed with my aid.
Maurice slid out from under the sink, but I hadn’t moved away, so his head ended up between my legs. I heard him give a gasp. I had on only a short skirt and I realised that he must have had an excellent view right to the top of my thighs since my legs were still straddling him, and the panties I was wearing would have left little to the imagination.
He lay as if transfixed, so I moved back, and it was my turn to gasp. The lump I saw in his jeans made Ben’s sex organ look like a gherkin alongside a cucumber. It was a magnificent if muffled display of manhood.
I felt a delightful twinge in my vagina and an almost unbearable ticking sensation in my clitoris. My vagina felt hot and swollen. It was one of those moments when a decision has to be made but also a moment when it is most difficult to think logically. The mind is saying one thing and the body screaming out another.
I wanted that big slice of manhood inside me, I wanted to feel its length and breadth plunging into me, deep, thrusting to reach my cervix. I wanted this boy like I’d never wanted anyone before.
Slowly Maurice rose to his feet, his faced was flushed and his eyes bright, the pupils dilated. We were both breathing very heavily as we stood, our eyes looking into each other.
Maurice leaned back against the sink as if in need of support. I could see he was trembling and my own legs seemed barely able to support me. The tip of my tongue was flickering over my lips like some predatory animal about to enjoy its prey.
I who had always been the hunted, who had never allowed my self to be caught unless I was willing, was now the stalking huntress, hungry for my victim. My body had won the struggle and would have its due.
My quarry stood before and I sprang, pressing my body against him. My moist lips touched his to swirl over them as I pushed my belly against him, my hips rotating. I could feel his hardness against me.
‘You want me, don’t you Maurice? I know you do, I can feel it.’ My voice was hoarse with choking lust.
He was thrusting against me as he gasped, ‘Oh God, yes.’
I broke the kiss and said, ‘Then fuck me, you beautiful brute, fuck me hard.’
I pulled him towards the lounge and the big divan and dropped down on it. He came on top of me and I said, ‘Take my panties off and fuck me Maurice.’
He rose and drew down the garment, and then unzipped his jeans to expose his shaft. It was even more superb than I had thought. A long, thick light brown ramrod surmounted by a light purple crown already dripping pre-cum.
We had no time for love play, I wanted him in me and could feel the urgency of his need. I spread my legs wide to receive him and his crown probed for my entrance. With my hand I guided him in and as he entered he gave a loud groan of ecstasy that accompanied my squeal of hot rapture.
God it was beautiful. He was steel hard and his penis was a tight fit against the walls of my vagina, the deep penetration reaching as I had wished to the very end of my tunnel, I gripped him with my vagina and this drew another groan from him.
He drew back then plunged into me again. I was in a hell of a state, thrusting up against him gasping, ‘Deeper, deeper’. Then rapidly my orgasm began, that moment when the first signals of its approach engender both dread and delight in a woman, a desire for it not to happen for fear of the exquisite pain, and eagerness for it to continue to a climax of delight and fulfilment. This was to be my first ever orgasm with a man.
‘I’m coming…I’m coming,’ I wept, ‘Come with me…come now.’
He needed no command from me as he was clearly on the edge himself and the next moment he was thrusting into me more rapidly and intensely than ever. We suddenly became a weeping howling tangle of arms and legs as we thrashed together. The first explosion of his sperm shot into me, the first time I had actually felt this sensation since Ben’s ejaculations had been no more of a dribble and dulled by a condom. Now it was hot flesh against hot flesh and seed seeking its goal.
He pumped ejection after ejection of his semen into me as my cries rose to a scream as I reached the pinnacle of my orgasm. God how I was elated…how I wanted him never to stop. I felt the last of his sperm enter me and I clung to him. ‘Don’t withdraw…don’t leave me…’
Even though he had finished his ejaculation he continued to move in me as if he understood my need and was determined to satisfy me. As my orgasm diminished in its intensity he began to speak.
‘That was fantastic…wonderful…I’ve never…it was out of this world.’
I silently agreed with him, but with the temporary cooling of my lust some degree of rationality returned.
What had I done? How had I allowed myself to virtually seduce this boy? Suppose Ben ever found out, would he allow me the same sexual latitude he expected for himself? I conjectured not. He was too much the business man, the buyer and seller. He had bought me and I was as much one of his possessions as anything else in his life. He might not want to copulate with me, but he certainly wouldn’t accept my copulating with anyone else.
I was like an expensive picture hung on the wall that once he had got it, he never bothered to look at it. It was there to satisfy his ego and to be admired and coveted by visitors, but not to be possessed by them.
But I wasn’t a picture on the wall or any other of his possessions. I was flesh and blood woman with a woman’s needs that, as I had found out, went beyond the comfortable life my present status gave me. What did I need? Perhaps I found one corner of it in Maurice, but what more did I want?
Maurice had withdrawn from me and was sitting beside me on the divan looking at me, his penis now modestly tucked away. I on the other hand had not moved and was lying on my back, my legs still spread and the juices of our love making oozing out of my vagina.
In a very gentlemanly manner he pulled down my skirt to cover my genitals, and we sat not really knowing what to say. It was Maurice who finally broke the silence.
‘You’re very beautifully er…er…’
He had only called me Mrs. Stanhope up to that point, but the formality seemed ridiculous after what had passed between us. ‘Madeline,’ I said.
‘Madeline’ he murmured as if savouring the name. ‘Madeline, you’re lovely.’
Another silence ensued until Maurice rose and said, ‘I’d better finish the work in the kitchen or ‘Arry will kill me when he gets back to work.’
He made to move off to the kitchen but I grabbed his hand and said, ‘Couldn’t it wait for a while?’ Men do not often understand that a woman, even when her orgasm is complete, wants the loving embrace of her partner. That said, I must admit I had not understood this myself since I had always been more than happy for snuffling Ben to turn over and go to sleep after he had dribble his sperm.
Now I did understand and need that hugging that says, ‘It wasn’t just momentary lust, I do love you.’
‘Love?’ What the hell was I thinking? How could there be love between Maurice and me? A momentary surrender to one’s carnal appetite does not signify love, and yet in that moment somewhere deep inside me I wanted to be loved. The immediate passion past, I wanted to feel loved.
‘You want me to stay here with you?’
‘Yes, do you want to?’
‘I could, if I worked late this evening to get the job done.’
‘Do you have to get home at a certain time?’
‘Well, no. I share a house with a couple of guys in the village and they don’t care what time I get home, or whether I get home at all,’ he grinned.
‘Then stay with me, just for a while.’ I took the gamble and said, ‘Stay all night, if you like.’
‘But Mr. Stanhope he…’
‘He’s away on business, he won’t be back for days.’
‘Oh, then…’
‘We won’t be disturbed, just stay and talk, it gets bloody lonely here. Look, we’re in a bit of a mess, perhaps we ought to clean up. Why not have a shower…if it’s working.’ I looked at him half seriously and he laughed.
‘It’s working all right, but I think you’d better go first because you’ve got all…all my…’
‘Your sperm in me? Yes, and some of my own juice as well.’
Nanette
- 19.08.2020
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