The penultimate fling
As luck would have it, I managed to wangle a half day to myself before Marilyn was due to set off on her mission to trace her ancestors in Brighton. She was happy enough to spend time with us at home in the evening, sharing meals and watching television, bucolic walks along the riverbank and mini trips to the local villages. But further to our exotic episode in the picnic spot, she was hungry for more and understandably, so was I.
I was surveying and photographing an old manor house nearby and spent a fair bit of time ducking in and out of the office, so a couple of hours here and there would not be noticed by anyone.
Marilyn had driven me to distraction for a couple of days, flirting and teasing at every opportunity. If I was preparing a meal or pottering around the kitchen, she would sidle up behind me and press her hips against my bum (she loved my bum and said it was my best feature) if it was a compliment it didn't do my poor face any justice....She would slowly grind herself against me, she absolutely loved this position...and whisper in my ear.
"Mmm honey, I am wearing some very pretty pink knickers and they are so-ooooo damp with lust."
I can't begin to describe the arousal this induced, my caution was hovering in code red, so I would only respond if I knew the missus was well out of earshot or, indeed, out in the garden. If the coast was clear, however, I would press back against her with my buttocks and join her little dance. Swaying together we would build up the passion and invariably her surprisingly tiny hands would snake around to begin fondling my ripe and swollen muscle. She would unzip my fly and slide a hand inside, caressing the shaft and cupping my balls so gently, all the while cooing an essay of erotic filth in my ears.
"I want you to finger me, honey. Slip a finger or two inside my knickers and feel just how sticky and wet I am."
"Marilyn, you are going to give me a heart attack you dirty girl. You can feel just how hard I am."
I was unable to resist and would curl my hands backwards to caress her bottom through her dress, then slowly raise it until I could run my hands to the top of her thighs and fondle her rump through her undies. She would respond by grinding even more purposefully into my bum.
"Mmm...mmm I am soaking wet...stroke me, slide your fingers over my slit and rub my button. I want to cum so badly."
Nothing could stop my hands curling around to her tummy, then due south to gently squeeze and fondle her satin mound, feeling the oily sponge of her cunt as my fingers stole inside the hem. My cock would now be at full stretch, her little paws wanking it up and down with practiced strokes, threatening to explode it at any moment.
"Tomorrow, honey, before I go, I want you to spurt your cock all over every inch of me...especially my pretty knickers, a little keepsake I can use after I've left whenever I need to satisfy my lust."
In the meantime, however, I was left with an erection a donkey would envy for most of my waking hours. I wanted to reserve every drop for her, to thank her for the wonderful and erotic time she had given me and this seemed to be exactly what she wanted.
Marilyn would sit with us in the evening, we would share one sofa as normal and she would sit on the other, set at 90 degrees to ours. Whenever the missus left the room, Marilyn would slowly spread her thighs and sprawl wantonly on the sofa. More often than not, she would be wearing hold-up stockings and a carefully chosen pair of silk or satin panties. Pastel shades were favoured, she must have brought 100 with her as I had never seen the same pair twice. Ivory and pale grey, pinks and lemons, powder blue and pastel green. Occasionally a scarlet or midnight blue pair would appear, with a deep, dark shadow where her juices had soaked the material.
She would slip her tongue to the side of her mouth and begin to stroke her mound. I can't describe how erotic it was, the sense of danger coupled with this fetish dream would have me panting with lust. She would pull them aside to expose her lips, heavy with her sticky juices and wank herself off in front of me. She could recover in a flash if she had to and pull her frock over her knees in an instant, behaving like a virgin aunt, discussing English gardens like nothing had happened...I began to wonder if she rehearsed all this at weekends because she was so accomplished at it. Perhaps she did it with other men, I didn't mind in the slightest - I have learned to live in the moment and enjoy the simple pleasures in life without question.
Marilyn's penultimate day arrived, I had arranged to come home around lunchtime and spend some time alone with her. The morning couldn't pass quickly enough. A pre-arranged phone call from Marilyn only hastened my departure. Pretending to be a client, she said she was uber horny but would be a good girl until I got there, and by the way, the light had blown in the hallway, did I have a spare bulb? I explained they were in the hall cupboard and I would be with her shortly.
I made myself look flustered, busy and slightly tetchy with my project to keep my colleagues at arm's length. It worked like a dream and I left around 12.30.