This is the first chapter of a request from a fan. The characters and plot are theirs, I'm simply fleshing out the details so to speak. I think the scenario is quite scintillating, and I'm looking forward to completing the rest of the story. All characters are fictional, and over the age of eighteen. Enjoy!
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Leslie Devereaux rolled over in her sumptuous bed, the first shafts of early morning sunlight tugging at her to awaken, the fifty-four year old physician not yet ready to greet the day. Blinds performed a more than adequate job shielding the room from the unwelcome rays, the majority of the room facing southwest; but along one side a few renegade interlopers were able to sneak inside, just enough to pester the lovely woman. Closing her eyes tighter she attempted to squeeze in a few more fleeting minutes of slumber. Eventually abandoning the struggle, the notoriously early riser reverted back to her true self. Stretching her arms above her head she yawned, the silk sheet covering her bountiful breasts slipping away. Leslie breathed deeply, her eyes closed once again, simply revelling in the sensation of the soft fabric against her skin.
She casually rubbed her legs together beneath the extravagant linen cocooning her luscious body, her right hand caressing her toned abdomen then sliding down to her thigh, running along the surface of her smooth flesh. She had spent a restless evening alone, a far too frequent occurrence for the lady's taste. There had been a time, not that long ago in the grand scheme of things really, when nights spent by herself would be few and far between. Leslie found herself pining for those days more and more as of late, memories from her former life returning to tease her.
This morning, a delightfully decadent mental image from a decade prior was slowly invading her psyche. Her left hand found her bosom, perfectly manicured fingers fondling her huge tits. Leslie's right was still beneath the shiny bed covering, traveling through a magnificent forest of pubic hair, then resting at her always needy pussy. The libidinous older woman played with herself, the sordid memory now the sole focus of her thoughts.
Flicking her swollen clit, she fondly reminisced about the crazy event, one of many she was had enjoyed with George Lonnegan, her first husband. She had been in her mid forties at the time, leading a private life of the most depraved debauchery. The particular recollection tantalizingly torturing her at the moment saw her on her hands and knees, getting railed by her husband while sucking his colleague Peter Carson's cock.
The vision burning hotly in her mind, she shuddered as a bolt of pleasure shot through her body, a finger now inside her desperate vagina as well, her juices dripping onto the luxurious sheet. Leslie hadn't had a really good orgasm in a while, her sexuality at times frustratingly bottled up, in large part due to the loveless marriage she found herself trapped in. Her second husband, Darren Devereaux, was a philandering son of a bitch, she was certain of it. He had spent another night at the office "working," no doubt screwing his pretty assistant Brenda. Leslie understood the attraction, the sexy young whore twenty years her junior, yet she still resented her husband for not appreciating what he had waiting for him at home.
Fuck you Darren
, she thought, plunging a second finger into her depths, her knuckles and red fingernails glistening with her cream. The scene blazing in her mind's eye was scintillating. She could vividly recall the sensation of George's lovely dick pummelling her snatch while Peter fed his prick to her, all three high on cocaine. The celebrated doctor was not, and had never been a regular drug user, only imbibing during the wild sex parties she had attended. Smoking weed and doing blow was okay occasionally, but adding drug addiction to her catalogue of vices was out of the question. Possessing incredible self-discipline and a strong constitution allowed her to resist the urge to indulge elsewhere.
As she masturbated, the horny Dr. Devereaux was getting closer to cumming, two digits working in harmony stroking her g-spot, the palm of her other hand flying across her bulging pearl, legs akimbo across the king-sized mattress. Pausing her self abuse, she reached over to the nightstand adjacent to the bed, intending to fetch the small vibrator she kept hidden there, when suddenly she was interrupted by the all too familiar ring tone of her husband calling on her cell phone.
"Oh screw you Darren," she mumbled to herself, continuing to rummage through the drawer.
After several seconds the phone went quiet, Leslie breathing a sigh of relief. The reprieve was short lived however, the land line on her night table now jingling. She saw on the display screen that it was still him, and also knew he would keep calling until she answered. Surrendering, she dropped her toy, replacing it with the telephone, tapping the green answer button with her wet index finger.
"Hello Darren," she said, expressionless.
"Good morning darling," he replied cheerfully, feigning affection for his wife.
"What do you want Darren?"
"I'm calling to remind you of the welcome reception for Edna Rundraster this afternoon."
The woman grimaced, the very name of this person like fingernails on a chalkboard to her. Professor Edna Rundraster was the newly appointed president of Drakeson University, a prize catch for the institution, but to Dr. Leslie Devereaux she was a complete bitch and the last person she was looking forward to seeing later that day.
"Yes Darren, I remember," she replied cooly.
"At 5:00 pm sharp, don't forget dear."
"I know Darren," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Okay then, I'll pop in at home later to pick you up. Have a wonderful day my dear, cheers!"
