HUN! I could hardly believe my ears. Surely this couldn’t be innocent speech could it? I wondered, yet her face betrayed no emotion. Either she was naively unaware of the effect she was having on me, or she was teasing me, I decided. The possibility that she was genuinely flirting with me seemed too far-fetched to consider.
I set up the fifteen balls on the table and unpacked my cue. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her run her slender finger around the rim of her glass. It seemed oddly erotic. I glanced at her face, her slightly lined throat, and at the rise and fall of her ripe breasts under her satin shirt. I was about to demonstrate how to hold the cue and how to angle it for the break.
“Whoa!” she laughed. “You need to explain the rules and what the aim of the game is first!”
I tried to make myself speak slowly, anxious that my voice and speech didn’t betray my excitement and nervousness. She nodded her head intelligently as I explained.
“Okay… let me watch how you do it. Then you can show me…”
I showed her a couple of shots and she stepped forward to try. She leaned forward and I found it impossible not to look inside her blouse as it puckered open. The tops of her breasts were visible, but although I knew she was wearing one, I couldn’t see her bra. Her shapely bum stuck out, emphasising her slender legs.
“How do I hold the cue?” she asked, apparently trying to work out the best angle and place to hold it. I was sipping the beer from the bottle.
This was getting increasingly embarrassing. My erection was growing with my excitement. I began to wish I hadn’t agreed to come with her. There was no easy way out, though. I tried to guide her hands and to stand close to her to adjust her hold on the cue. Again, my eyes latched onto her rings, then switched to her glossed lips, her brown eyes and large framed glasses, and her drop ear rings. I admit that my gaze wandered down her throat again and to the top of her cleft inside her blue, shimmering shirt.
She adjusted her stance and, to my horror, her bum brushed my erection. She pulled away. Then, as if the contact wasn’t embarrassing enough, she let slip, “What the..?” and glanced round. She gave a little giggle as she realized what had happened.
“Ohhh, sorry, Daniel. I… sorry, hon.”
I felt the blood rush to my face again at her second use of the term of endearment.
“I’ll tell you what, Daniel. Why don’t you show me a couple of shots?”
She sat down and crossed her leg. She adjusted the hem, but only after I’d glanced her stocking top. I took a sip of beer and tried to maintain my composure. It really did seem now that she was playing with me, teasing me. I was sure that she was trying to embarrass me for leering at her.
Self-consciously, I demonstrated a few shots. I glanced over to explain what I was doing. She uncrossed her leg slowly and crossed her other leg. I was getting more fraught now more aroused, but also more annoyed at her playing with me, as this time she gave me a longer view of her lacy stocking top before pulling her skirt hem down to cover it. She had a slight smile on her face, and her eyebrows were raised. Her slender legs looked long and shapely.
That was it, I decided. I tried to sound as polite as I could, and asked if I could use the bathroom. My mind was made up to leave, but it would take me a good three quarters of an hour to walk home (if she offered me a lift I would decline), and I needed the bathroom before setting off.
She told me there was a bathroom just across the hall from the dining room. I smiled politely and walked out of the games room. She had really annoyed me now, and although I wouldn’t use them to her, a number of names came to my mind as I returned to the room.
I froze in my tracks.
She was lying on the leather sofa with her back leaning against the arm. Her shirt was undone, and hanging loosely from her shoulders. Her breasts were bared above her bra. They looked firm and ripe, and I guessed that they were C-cup. Her bra was black, half-cup, ornamented with mesh and lace. Her eyes were closed. Her red-painted lips were parted. So were her shapely legs. Her plain black skirt was hiked up high, and barely covered her crotch. Her tan stockings were shiny and contrasted with the lacey tops.
She was holding her husband’s pool cue the wrong way up. The thick end was inside her skirt, and her hands were nudging back and forth, and up and down. She gave little sighs of pleasure. I watched her exposed breasts rise and fall, and stared at her half-taut nipples.
She opened her eyes and smiled at me.
“Like what you see, Daniel? Why don’t you come for a closer look?”
I stepped slowly and silently towards her. She hiked up her skirt to her waist. I had to stifle a gasp. Her pussy lips were small, neat, and shaved. Her black suspenders framed it deliciously, holding my eye to it. Just above her slit she sported a narrow strip of dark, short hair, like a landing strip. She gave little thrusts of her pelvis, and I watched the shaft of the pool cue sliding lewdly in and out of her engorging flesh.
With a slow movement of her pelvis she expelled the wooden cue out of her opening, and I watched it slide free of her, and watched her pussy lips close and fold back into place.
She raised her eyebrows and smiled. She flicked her tongue slowly across her painted lips.
“I reckon, Daniel, that you have a shaft at least as hard as this show me YOUR cock, hon… And I’m more interested in YOUR balls than those with numbers on that table…”
I avoided her eyes as I pulled off my tee shirt, feeling strangely coy.
“Why don’t you allow me, hon?” she said softly.
She sat up and bent forward. Her breasts swayed deliciously above her bra, and her nipples were now hard and jutting out. She unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans, and tugged them down. My eyes locked onto her slender fingers and her wedding ring.
“Don’t be shy, hon… I want you…” she cooed.
I blushed again at her actions, her voice, her wanton declaration of her illicit desire. Her hands hooked into the waistband of my boxers and eased them down.
“Oh yes, Daniel, oh, hell, yesss!” she hissed enthusiastically. I felt a twinge of embarrassment as my erection sprang free and jutted close to her face as she worked my jeans and boxers down to my knees. To my combined horror and delight she leaned forward and kissed my throbbing tip three times. I groaned at the sight and sensation of her married lips on my sensitive flesh.
“Get your fucking clothes right off, Daniel,” she murmured, her voice sounding slightly husky now.
Her expletive dispelled my shyness and nervousness, and I shoved my jeans and boxers to my ankles and yanked them off. Wendy was staring at me, her mature eyes roving over my eighteen-year old body. She cupped her left breast with her hand and caressed it. It looked rude, and very arousing.
“I hope I’m not too old for your liking, hon,” she said, softly. It was a self-assured statement rather than a question, but I needed to respond to her.
“No Wendy. I think you’re a sexy lady…”
“No, Daniel. I’m not a lady. I’m a cheating wife. A slut. A tramp. You won’t be the first young boy to fuck me, and you won’t be the last. I’m a cock-hungry cougar. I seek out my prey and take them.”
I was shocked, but her words fuelled my lust for her. I reached down and groped her breast roughly. She smiled encouragingly, and slid onto the floor, beckoning me to join her. I did so eagerly. It seemed the more wanton; the sofa would have been adequate, and I knew the house must contain more than one bedroom. Yet here we were on the hard floor.
Her wantonness seemed emphasised by her reluctance to shed her remaining clothes. I glanced around in vain for any sign of her panties. She retained her skirt, her bra, her blouse, as well as her sheer tan stockings and her black suspenders. Not that her clothes covered anything; her blouse lay open, her breasts were bared above her designer bra, and her skirt was hiked up to her waist. It all lent a craven impression, as if the act of removing her remaining clothes was an unnecessary distraction, and I liked the way that she cared nothing about her clothes getting dusty or creased.
I knelt on all fours over her and fondled her breasts, fascinated by their feel and their appearance.
“I’m not a lady, am I, hon?”
“No, Wendy. You’re a… a…”
“Tell me, Daniel! Tell me what you think of me!” she urged.
I looked into her mature, married face. Her expression was intense.
“You’re a sexy slut, Wendy. You… a woman your age should know better especially a married woman your age… you’re… you’re a cheating tramp, Wendy…”
I felt ashamed to be speaking to her like this, and wouldn’t have dreamed of doing so uninvited, but the nastiness of it was strangely liberating and arousing.
“Am I… am I the first older woman you’ve been with, hon?”
I began to rub my erection against her well-tone thigh, savouring the feel of her soft skin and of the firmness of her flesh.
“You’re… you’re the first woman of any age I’ve been with, Wendy…”
She groaned with delight at my response, and nudged my face to her breasts.
“Nuzzle and kiss those mature, married tits…”
I planted kisses on her yielding orbs and savoured the feel of her hard nipples against my lips. I sucked each in turn into my mouth. Her fingers caressed the nape of my neck, my back, and my shoulders. I ran my fingers over her sides through the warm, slippery fabric of her shirt, and explored the mesh and lace of her bra below her up-thrust breasts.
“You’re so hard, Daniel, hon. Don’t rub your cock against me too much, though. I don’t want you to cum too quickly…”
I lay beside her on the floor and ran my hand over her belly and thighs. I played with her suspenders and caressed the soft skin of her inner thighs. She parted her legs, and I stared at the narrow strip of close-trimmed hair above her slit, and on her slit itself.
She took my hand in hers and led it to her pussy.
“Fondle and play with that experienced, married pussy, you hot jock,” she gasped.
She was soft down there, soft and yielding and inviting. I rubbed her slit and I found her clit, hard and sticky. Instinctively I began to frig it with my fingertip.
She moaned softly and drew my head to her breast again.
“That’s so good, hon… fondle those pussy lips as well. Get my married pussy ready for your hard, virgin cock, Daniel..”
I kissed and sucked each of her breasts more ardently, tonguing each hard nipple alternately as I continued to caress and frig her. It felt tawdry but exhilarating to think of her husband touching her like this and to imagine other young guys like myself doing so when he was away on business trips, too. I stared into the eager face of this married woman who was old enough to be my mother, and swept my eyes, and my hand, all over her body, before resuming playing with her pussy again.
“Oh, Wendy… I want to put it inside you…”
“What do you want inside me?” she urged.
“My cock. My hard cock. It… it’s never been inside a pussy before. I… I want it in your married pussy, Wendy. I… I want to fuck it. I… I want to cum inside it, you… you nasty slut…”
She groaned at my taunting words, and, no doubt, at the arousal in my voice.
“Do it! DO IT!” she implored. “It’s yours for the taking…”
I raised myself onto my elbows, and watched her left hand encircle my erection. I saw and felt her wedding and engagement rings against me. I watched her guide me into her opening, and a shudder of delight ran through me as I felt her body engulf my throbbing member.
I kissed her throat and neck, then her breasts again. I thrust inside her slowly, and deeply. I saw her raise her knees and saw and felt her lock her legs around my waist, clasping me tight as I pumped in and out of her. We were both grunting and murmuring our pleasure.
I began to up my pace, thrusting faster and harder into her. Her eyes were closed, and her face was serene. I swept my eyes over her face and breasts as I ground into her. I knew I wasn’t going to last very long, and hoped I wouldn’t disappoint her. She whispered over and over how good it felt, encouraged me with gasps of “Yes, that’s it! That’s it!”, and urging me, “Shoot it, hon! Shoot it!”
I did. I panted as I emptied myself into her mature, married body, thrilling in the feel of her arms and legs locked around me, thrilling in the sound of her ragged breathing. I began to slow down.
“No, hon. Keep going. Make your slut cum now… with your cock and your fingers…” she pleaded.
I carried on thrusting, though my erection was beginning to subside. I reached down between our perspiring bodies and found her hard clit again. I stroked it and began to frig clasped me tight again.
I felt her twitch a few times. It felt good, and reassured me, despite my inexperience. Her arms and legs clasped me tighter, and I felt her begin to buck and grind underneath me. I did my best to keep thrusting as best I could as her whole body began to convulse. Then, with a few final thrusts and quivers, she, too, was spent.
She gave a low chuckle of delight as I rolled off her.
“Wow, hon, that was quite something!” she sighed. Perhaps we’d better get dressed soon and finish our drinks. And maybe we can do it again some time. I’ll be honest, I’m not into affairs. They’re too complicated. But…” and she gave another low chuckle, “casual, no strings fucking. Wendy’s into that alright!”