Chance Meeting 20

Joan Davis positioned her chair in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and sat down. She pulled open the silk robe she was wearing and under which she was totally naked. Considering her age she thought she looked reasonably presentable. Spreading her legs so that she could see her sex in the reflection of the mirror, she experimented with a number of poses to see which one provided her with the best view. When she was satisfied with that she moved her hand to her groin and slowly began to finger her clit. Staring at the intent face in the mirror she continued to move her fingers in a gentle circular motion until she began to feel the explosion building inside her. When it came she cried out in pleasure, falling back in the chair. In the warm afterglow of her orgasm she contemplated the contented figure in the mirror, and her mind drifted back to the events of the previous day.

On days such as these Joan found herself in her car heading towards the Cape. Sitting there on one of the benches, looking out to sea, was a way to relax and clear her mind. It was something she had done a lot since her husband Phil passed away nearly three years ago. There had been no great passion in their relationship, but she missed his presence and the companionship it brought.

A way to counter that was to keep busy; an active mind and all that, and after all she was only in her early fifties and far from being in an infirm old age. Driving to the Cape was one of the things she looked forward to doing whenever the weather allowed. That meant when it wasn't too windy which it was most of the time. Today, however, was beautiful and calm and it would be a joy to be there.

Joan stopped in the public car park, picked up her small hamper and headed off towards the beach. As she reached the area where the public benches looked out towards the sea, she saw a man sitting on one of the seats. He was doubled over and as she moved closer she could see that he was crying. Not quite knowing what to do, Joan stopped and stared.

As if sensing he was being watched the man looked up. Joan could see the tears running down his face. 'I'm sorry,' he said and took a deep breath, 'I hope I didn't frighten you.' His voice was soft and pleasant.

'No', Joan replied,' I'm the one who should be sorry. I had no right to stop and stare. Are you okay?'

'Probably. It's just that my wife died a year ago today. We used to like walking out here so I thought I'd come out, but the memories got a bit much.' He smiled, 'I think I'm over it now. Please have a seat.'

He indicated the space next to him and Joan, without thinking too much about it, sat down beside him. He seemed to be about her age and in quite good shape, no paunch bulging over his trousers. 'By the way, I'm Steve Charles.' He put out his hand.

'Joan Davis,' she replied, touching the hand briefly. She had never been a great one for physical contact.

Sitting there, looking out to sea, they started chatting and within a few minutes they had exchanged stories, discovering that they had a great deal in common. They lived in the same suburb, had both lost their spouses suddenly and really missed the companionship that their marriages had provided. The conversation continued and when she looked at her watch Joan realised they had been there for over an hour. She had no idea why she asked the next question in much the same way that her new friend had no idea why he gave the answer he did, but she turned towards Steve and said, 'Tell me, what is it that you miss the most?'

He smiled, 'I don't mean to offend you, but I miss the relationships we had.' The thought crossed Joan's mind that he was just like all other men really. Steve must have caught the look. He raised his arms, 'No! No! I don't mean having sex. In fact we found that not very satisfying at all. Never lasted long and was accompanied by much grunting and groaning.' He laughed.

Joan laughed as well, ' I must say I have to agree with you there. Our relationships, if you want to put it that way, were rather ordinary and as you say, not very satisfying.'

'Well, we are agreed on that then.' Steve looked at her intently. 'You asked me a question and I'll give you an answer, but I in no way wish to offend you.' Joan nodded as he continued. 'We reached a point early in our relationships where we decided that intercourse was not for us. That we enjoyed pleasuring ourselves far too much and that we enjoyed putting on little shows for each other.'

Joan looked a little startled by this, but Steve's words intrigued her. 'So, what did you do?'

'I guess we were both in some way exhibitionists and voyeurs, but only for each other, mind. We would never have considered bringing anyone else into our relationship. We just loved each other so much. Now I miss those shared little intimacies.' Steve seemed to realize what he had just said, 'I really can't believe I've told you that, but I might as well tell you the rest. We would put on little shows for each other and then we could enjoy ourselves in our own way.' He shook his head. 'I know it must sound weird, but we were happy and we never harmed anyone else or each other.'

Joan looked at Steve intently. It seemed that what he had said had touched a kindred feeling in her. She smiled. 'You may find this hard to believe, but I know exactly what you are talking about. My George and I never did anything like that, but I wish we had. The poor man was a terrible lover, all good intentions, but no skill whatever.' She paused for a moment and then seemed to make up her mind. 'Seeing that you have been so honest I thought I would do the same. He never gave me an orgasm, but I doubt he ever knew that.' She smiled at a sudden memory. 'Perhaps there was one time, although he knew nothing about it. I was going to the bathroom and I just started to open the door and I realised that George was already in there. Not only that, but he was playing with himself. He didn't know I was there and I just stood there and watched him. It was amazing and when he came, I did too. Never even had to touch myself'

She blushed at the memory. 'I'm sure you'll think I'm a dreadful woman. I've never told anyone that before.'

'Not at all,' Steve replied. 'That's just the sort of thing Myra and I would love.'

'Are you serious?'

'Absolutely.'

Joan was intrigued. 'So what did you actually do?'

'Well, I guess we would create situations, or just things that happened around the house where we could expose ourselves and then masturbate while we watched each other. I know it sounds kinky, but we loved it.'

'It sounds wonderful. I just wish George and I had found something like that. It would have saved a great deal of frustration.'

'It's never too late,' Steve said and they both laughed.

While they had been talking they had shared the contents of Joan's little hamper. 'These cookies are delicious. You must be a great cook.'

Joan smiled at the compliment, then she made a decision that driving home she found incredible. 'Would you care to come around to have dinner tomorrow night and we could get to know each other a little better, if you know what I mean?' She was amazed at her own boldness.

Steve looked at her and smiled. 'That would be lovely, but are you sure you know what you are saying?'

Joan smiled, 'Believe me, I know exactly what I'm saying. It might cheer us both up' She gave him her address. 'Be there around seven.'

On the drive home Joan could scarcely believe what she had said and done. How could she have told a total stranger her most intimate memory and just what was she going to do when Steve came around to dinner tomorrow night? She wasn't quite sure, but the tingling feeling in her groin told her that she was looking forward to the experience.

The next day Joan was faced with just how to produce the sort of erotic dinner party that would please both her and her guest. Food was not a problem. She was an excellent cook and could produce any number of dishes. But she would have to give careful thought as to just what she would wear and equally as important, how she would behave.

She decided to consider her wardrobe first. Joan did not want to be too obvious to begin with, but knew she would have to be more revealing as the evening wore on. After experimenting with a number of outfits she came to the conclusion that nothing in her current wardrobe would be suitable. It was then she remembered her old clothes in the spare room. Perhaps there were some things there that might work, and indeed there were. Joan had put on a little weight since she bought many of the items, but the fact that they were a little tight made them more revealing and that was what she was after. One particularly interesting find was a low cut bra which made her breasts stand out in front of her. Joan's breasts were quite large and they sagged a bit, but the bra made them look enormous. It was tight and quite uncomfortable, but she could put up with it for a while.

After much debate she decided that the item to wear with it was a thin woollen pantsuit. When she looked at it Joan could hardly believe that she had purchased it and had no memory of ever wearing it. Probably it was one of those things that looked good in the store, but was a fashion disaster when she got it home. However, the bottoms were skin tight and worn without panties it was possible to see quite a lot. The top came in the form of a round-necked cardigan that she could just manage to button across her extremely prominent chest. She had worked out a couple of other things for later and was quite pleased with the results. She just hoped that Steve was a little into retro.

All the time she had been deciding what to wear Joan had thought little about why she was doing this, but while she was preparing dinner she started to think about the evening ahead. All this was for a man she had met once, for just a couple of hours. Was he really the kind of person she thought he was, or had she invited some kind of pervert into her home? Should she call it all off, lock the door, turn out the lights and pretend no one was home? After some soul-searching she decided that her first impression was a good one and she considered that she needed just a little excitement in her life. Anyway, the more she thought about the whole exhibitionist-voyeur thing the more excited she became. The idea of a relationship without intercourse seemed very appealing after enduring years of poor George's clumsy efforts.

About thirty minutes before Steve was due to arrive dinner was in the oven and nothing more needed to be done. It was time for Joan to get herself prepared. Putting on the pantsuit was no easier than it had been earlier in the day, but the task was soon completed. A bit of work with her hair and make-up and the result was something else. Joan hoped it the effect on Steve would be sexy rather than ridiculous and that he would at least appreciate the effort she had gone into in order to squeeze herself into the outfit.

Promptly at seven the doorbell rang and after a quick look through the peephole to make sure it was Steve she opened the door. The serious look on his face changed to a smile as he saw her. 'Good evening Joan, you look fantastic.'

'Thank you, I thought you might like a little retro, and you don't look too bad yourself.' He was dressed in brown slacks and a light coloured sweater and looked very relaxed.

'I just love retro, especially when it is dressed up like that. I brought some wine. I hope it's okay?' He held out what must have been quite an expensive bottle.'

'That's lovely. Thank you so much. Please come in' She turned and walked down the hall, giving him a look at a very tightly enclosed rear.

Dinner would not be cooked for another thirty minutes, so they decided to open the wine and have a glass. Steve sat on the sofa and Joan placed herself in an armchair directly opposite, opening her legs to make sure Steve had the best possible view. The effect was obvious from his intent look to an equally obvious bulge in his trousers. Joan decided to go a little further. She rubbed her hand over her groin, 'Goodness me, these slacks are itchy. The wool is playing hell with my private parts.'

'You poor thing! I don't mind it you give it a rub to ease the itch.' Joan did just that until she thought she would explode.

Then she took her hand away and looked down, 'Oh dear,' she said, 'I appear to have leaked,' pointing to a moist spot showing in the crotch of her pants. 'I suppose that comes as a result of not wearing panties.' Steve could only squirm in his seat. Then she decided to change direction. 'The wine is lovely and I could sit here for hours, but we need to get dinner ready. Will you excuse me?' she said as she stood and moved towards the kitchen.

'Certainly, can I help?' When Steve stood the bulge in his trousers was very obvious.

Joan smiled, 'Of course you can. But we can't have you getting messy, so I'll just go and grab a couple of aprons.'

Leaving the room she went not to the kitchen but to the spare room where she stripped off the tights with their now sodden groin. Around her waist she tied a small pink apron and picked up a blue one off the bed. Walking back into the living room she handed the blue apron to Steve. 'There you are. Put this on and join me in the kitchen.' With that she turned and walked out giving Steve a clear view of her naked rear.

It was not long before Steve joined her. His trousers had been dispensed with, as had his shoes and socks and the apron was tied around his waist with his cock tenting out the front quite dramatically. Joan smiled and clapped her hands, 'Steve, you look lovely. Blue really is your colour and that's a most impressive erection.' She could have sworn it got even bigger with her words.

They then busied themselves putting the finishing touches to their meals, although Joan found it a little difficult working with the enormous projection of her chest sticking out in front of her. When all was ready she stood with her hands on her hips, 'Can't wear aprons while we're eating,' said Joan, removing hers with a flourish and exposing the lower half of her body.

'Indeed,' said Steve, removing his apron, allowing Joan to see just how large his erection was.

She nodded in approval, 'As I said before, most impressive.' They proceeded to enjoy the meal, talking about a great many things, but none of them sexual. It only served to heighten the anticipation. When the main course was completed, Joan said, 'Now it's time for some dessert, but before we eat do you mind if I change. This bra is very tight and I think I need to give my poor breasts some relief. However, when I take my bra off I should warn you that my titties will sag quite a bit. It's the curse of age I guess, but if saggy boobs offend you I then I will keep it on for you.'

'Not at all,' replied Steve. 'I quite like saggy breasts. They're much more realistic than those silicone jobs so I certainly enjoy the effects of gravity.' At those words Joan smiled and stood up, leaving the room to prepare for the next step. In the spare room she undid her cardigan and removed it, then with great relief undid her bra, letting her breasts hang free. The bra really was uncomfortable, but nothing she could not have put up with if she thought it was worth it. It had become obvious to her that Steve was quite submissive and willing to do whatever he was told. She was certain his late wife had been the dominant one and that one of the reasons he was a little lost was that there was no one to tell him what to do. She knew she was capable of fixing that problem. While she was going over this she picked up a thin, light blue v-necked cardigan which she put on and buttoned up. The neck was a little low and allowed her to show quite a bit of cleavage. It was also rather tight and clung to her breasts in a way that pleased her.

Returning to the living room she found Steve sitting, gently stroking his cock. 'I think that should be kept for later, don't you?' Joan's admonishment brought a guilty smile. His hands moved immediately away, but the erection stayed when he caught a look at her. 'Come on, let's have some dessert.' When she was serving his portion of apple pie Joan made sure she leaned over in front of him in order to give him a good look down the front of her cardigan. She did the same when they had finished eating and she was picking up his bowl.

'That was great,' he said.

Joan smiled, 'Me or the pie?'

'Both.'

'We'll leave the dishes. Let's go back to the living room.' Steve dutifully followed her and then she asked him to move her armchair closer to the sofa so she would be much closer to him. Then they sat down and Joan took their game to the next level. 'Listen carefully, Steve. I am enjoying tonight so much that I am going to play with myself while you watch me. But while I am doing it you are not allowed to touch your cock. Just sit back and enjoy it. You'll get your chance later. Is that okay?' Steve could only nod.

Joan now assumed the pose she had decided on earlier in the day and began slowly stroking her clit. 'While I'm doing this you can tell me what you think of me.'

Steve seemed mesmerised by her performance. 'I think you're wonderful,' he said quietly. 'I can't believe how beautiful you are and you've gone to so much trouble for me.' Steve was as lost as she was in the moment. 'I think your choice of clothes was great, but I was wondering if I could see your titties in the flesh at some point, rather than just looking at them through your cardigans.'

Joan smiled, ' I think that can happen later. Keep talking while I cum.' Her breath started coming in gasps and her fingers moved faster across her slit, occasionally sliding one inside.

'I seem to be obsessed with your tits, probably because they looked so amazing in that bra, but your cunt is beautiful too. I'm so lucky that you sat down beside me on that bench. Good. You seem to be coming now. Are you?'

'Yes. Yes.' Joan managed to get out before the waves of pleasure washed over her and she arched back in the chair as orgasm after orgasm ran through her. She had never felt anything like it in her life. God, what a feeling!

It seemed some time before she was able to focus on Steve sitting quietly opposite. He just sat there smiling at her. Joan had been well satisfied and now it was his turn. She sat up in the chair, reached into her cardigan and drew out her breasts. Because the cardigan was still buttoned it gave her tits some support, making them stand out. 'Is this what you wanted?' she asked.

'Oh, yes,' said Steve, his voice barely above a whisper. Joan took their weight in her hands and lifted them up towards him. 'Oh, yes,' he said again.

'Now it's your turn,' Joan said. 'You've been such a good boy I think I will let you cum. But there will be some conditions.' Steve looked at her. 'When men cum there is always a mess and I don't wish to have a mess to clean up, so I will get something to take care of that.' With that she stood and with breasts hanging over the top of her cardigan walked into the kitchen where she took a large plastic mixing bowl from the top of the bench. Returning to the living room she walked over to Steve, knelt in front of him and placed the bowl on the floor.

Steve leaned forward, 'Joan, do you think you could unbutton your cardigan, please? I would love to see your beasts sag. I want to see how much they hang.' She smiled and nodded, slowly undoing the buttons until the cardigan was opened and her tits were hanging down on her chest.

'There,' she said, giving them a shake, 'is that what you want?'

'Oh yes,' replied Steve softly. 'They're wonderful. Can I play with myself now while I look at you.'

'You have my permission because you've been so nice and I really want to see you cum. Kneel in front of me.' Steve moved off the couch and got on his knees in front of her. 'Now you can start, but you must tell me when you are going to cum.' Steve nodded and began moving his hand up and down his shaft. He had been in such a state of arousal for so long that she knew he wouldn't last long. However, he seemed to have a bit more willpower than she thought. Joan decided to add to the pressure by lifting her breasts and then letting them go so they dropped back onto her chest, then she shook her shoulders making them wobble back and forth.