It was early evening when Peter arrived home. Setting his golf bag down in the corner of the garage he braced himself mentally for the evening ahead.
Must appear normal!
He went through the garage door into the breakfast room, calling out his presence.
"Hi, I'm home!"
He walked through into the kitchen just as Diane answered.
"Hello. You're late - good game of golf?"
"Yes, sorry, I had a drink afterwards with Ian and Zoe in their garden. And no, I had a terrible game."
She was stood at the worktop, preparing salad for their evening meal. He pressed up behind her and slipped his arms round her waist, reaching up to cup her full breasts through the thin Lycra top she was wearing. He leant forward and kissed the side of her neck as she tilted her head for him, smiling in appreciation. As he caressed her he began to harden, and pressed against her firm buttocks. She was wearing a long, thin, floaty skirt, and either no panties or a thong, as he could clearly feel the divide of her buttocks. She moaned softly, her eyes closed as he continued to kiss and nibble her neck, jawline and ears; her nipples hardened under his caressing.
How different she feels to Zoe; softer, more rounded ...so familiar.
"Home alone tonight – we'd better make the most of it." He whispered in her ear, then pulled back from her; she opened her eyes with a start.
She turned her head and looked at him quizzically.
"What do you have in mind?"
"The works, the Full Monty ... bonking in the bedroom, lust on the lino ... " he waved his arms theatrically as she smiled indulgently at him " ... shagging on the shagpile, cunnilingus in the conservatory, dildos on the deck, buggery in the broom-cupboard and gynaecology in the garden ... all those things you can't do when you've got a child at home." He grabbed her round the waist again, spun her round to face him and kissed her passionately as she hung in his embrace like a rag doll.
"Phew! What got into you?" she gasped as he broke the kiss.
"It's what's going to get into you that you should be more worried about." He grinned down at her. "Right, I'm going to shower, shave and make myself devilishly handsome. If you know anyone who wants to take advantage of me, send 'em on up."
And with that he leapt for the door in a ludicrous impersonation of Rudolf Nureyev. Fortunately, he didn't fall flat on his face. Diane listened to him leaping up the stairs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, shook her head and widened her eyes in bemused disbelief, then went back to her salad preparation. Ten minutes later, she took a bottle of white wine from the fridge, opened it, then grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and went upstairs.
As she entered their bedroom, she heard the sound of his razor coming from the en suite, and Peter groaning and howling above it. As the razor stopped, she heard him pause the caterwauling, then utter those immortal words ...
" ... A crowded room ..." in a strangled, nasal groan.
"Oh goody, I get to see Eccles naked!" she called out, putting the bottle and glasses on his bedside cabinet.
"Yehss, mine Kapitain! And Bluebottle will show you his cardboard sword!" came the high-pitched squeal in reply.
She walked into the bathroom; he was standing naked at the basin, inspecting his shaving efforts in the mirror, running his fingers over his face as he pulled various grimaces to tighten the skin. She stood behind him, on tiptoes to rest her chin on his shoulder as she slipped her arms around him and cupped his soft tackle in both hands.
"I say!" he muttered suavely, ά la Hercules Grytpype-Thynne "Can I help you miss?"
"Bluebottle, I hate to tell you, but your cardboard sword has gone all soggy and limp in the shower ... wait a minute ... ooh, it seems to be drying out nicely." She stroked his burgeoning hard-on gently, smiling at his reflection in the mirror.
If she knew where it had been this morning ...
She gave his erection one last stroke, then, turning sharply and catching him a playful back-handed slap on the rump she went back to the bedroom and poured two glasses of wine, one of which she took as she slumped back on the bed, sitting against the pile of pillows that rested against the headboard. She kicked off her sandals and sipped the chilled Chardonnay.
"There's wine out here!" She called to him.
"Just a mo' ... tryin' ... to ... lift ... hard-on ... out ... of ... basin ... " he grunted in mock exertion.
With a flourish, he flung the bathroom door open and struck a pose, his hard-on bouncing comically against his belly.
She eyed him disdainfully over the rim of her glass "Very nice dear, now come and put your jim-jams on and mummy'll tuck you in and read you a story."
"Will mummy tell me the one about Snow White gettin' shagged by the seven dwarves? Or the one about Cinderella in the lesbian gang-bang with the ugly sisters?" he wheedled pitifully.
"Nope. Now, do you want dinner before sex, or sex before dinner?" she paused for a millisecond "Too late! Dinner first!" then slipped off the bed, grabbed the wine and sidestepped past him as he made a forlorn grab for her.
"Bugger!" she heard him hiss vehemently as she ran through the door. She giggled loudly and skipped down the stairs.
They ate dinner, then adjourned to the living room. He slumped in his usual corner of their large settee, and in an unconscious re-enactment of the morning, Diane sat down beside him and leant back against him. His arm slipped easily over her shoulder and his hand found her breast. He couldn't help but contrast the full softness against the pert firmness of Debbie's, the familiarity of his wife compared to the exciting newness of the young girl. He began to stiffen, which she felt under her elbow. She reached up and stroked him through the soft jogging ends he was wearing, then slipped her hand under the waistband and gripped him firmly.
"Oh, Ian and Zoe have invited us round for a lunchtime barbie tomorrow." He said, relaxing into her gentle manipulation of his cock.
