I was at my girlfriend's place one day last summer. She was still living with her parents in a sort of mock Tudor mansion not far from Guildford. We were all sitting around their back garden swimming pool, the two of us and her mum and dad, half-listening to Wimbledon on the radio; it was a hot day and it all felt quite luxurious. After all, just the pool was almost as big as my folks' entire back yard!
Jules and I had completed our GCE A-Levels a few weeks earlier and were chilling out before we got back to some hard graft at university. Jules was our school's academic superstar and she was off to the glamour of Oxford, whereas my mediocre results were just enough to get me into distinctly unglamorous Surrey University.
That was what was worrying me. At Oxford my girlfriend would find herself surrounded by wealthy, sophisticated and no doubt charming ex-public schoolboys; with her looks I could imagine they'd be swarming around Jules like bees around a honeypot - my honeypot! Jules is a bit of a nympho, she loves to shag at every possible opportunity and with us 60 miles from each other most of the time I couldn't imagine her exercising much self-restraint. And what was I going to do? Jules and I had been together since we were 13, and after five years I'd never been with another girl and I didn't really want another one.
I was sitting on a sun lounger, and thinking about the blow job Jules had given me in her bedroom just an hour earlier I couldn't help my cock starting to make my shorts resemble a circus tent. And it was then that I realised Jules' mother, Mary, had very clearly noticed. She was sitting a few feet away facing me, and behind her shades she was staring fixedly at my groin, which made my physical reaction even worse.
I've known Mary for ever, her and my mum used to work together, and ever since I first learned about the birds and the bees she's been the main subject of my sexual fantasies. She's in her late forties, tall and elegant, posh and English but, like Jules, from somewhere she's inherited fine-boned Italian looks, with shoulder-length glossy black hair, with just the odd silver strand starting to appear, high cheekbones, flashing dark eyes and full, sensual lips. As I peered at her I saw the tip of her tongue run across her lips and, for a moment, I imagined those luscious lips wrapped around my dick, just like her daughter's had been earlier on. God, I thought it was going to burst the zip of my shorts! I tried to subtly adjust them but that just made my stiffy more obvious.