This story follows on immediately from Symposium Day Ch 1,2,3
The story so far:-
Ch1. Dave, Jen and I are at a symposium in Barcelona. I am the new boy at nineteen, Jen is late thirties, and Dave, a brusque northerner with an eye for the ladies, is somewhat older. After a meal in Las Ramblas, Dave heads back to the hotel leaving me with Jen, who he's been chatting up all day. Back at the hotel, Jen took me to her room where I got my first lesson in giving oral sex, something her 'shag about' husband won't do for her.
Ch2 Jen realised that this might have been a mistake and summoned me to her room to explain. She's worried that I am very young, one of only four people who know about her snake tattoo, and that I might not be discreet. When I made it obvious that 'What happens in Barcelona, stays in Barcelona', she invited me back to her room that night, where we discovered we both like talking dirty. (If you haven't read Chs 1&2, the head of the snake tattoo starts on her inner thigh, winds its way round her belly until the tail vanishes into her vagina)
Ch3. Jen decides that you can't have too much of a good thing and we arrange a tryst back in England. Over a month had passed when we got together on a Sunday while her husband was playing golf. My education continued and I made some more discoveries. This story continues on that Sunday.
With Jens words,
"I definitely think we could have lots of fun together. I have plenty more ideas about how to spend a Sunday!" Ringing in my ears, I lay face down, spreadeagled on the bed. I was enjoying the afterglow of a rumbustious fuck, that had culminated in her taking my post orgasmic, hypersensitive cock in her mouth. It hurt, it hurt like fuck, but....I have to say, I enjoyed it! She finally let my tortured glans slip from her lips, sore but strangely satisfied.
"You better get your carcass off that bed, I have laundry to do. I can't have the sheets covered in your cum when hubby gets back. So unless you want me to spank that lily white bottom again, shift it!"
"It's just so comfortable! Besides I quite enjoyed it when you spanked me as I was about to......."
"When you were about to cum!" She exclaimed, "You really are a mucky little toad, and kinky with it!" She grinned, as she approached the bed, still naked.
"I'll go and fetch my long handled shoe horn if you stay there, it's just the thing to teach your bum exactly whose boss."
"Only if you wear your glasses." Said my mouth.
"What! What is it with you and my glasses?"
"Don't know, they just make you look incredibly sexy."
"Am I not sexy anyway?"
"Of course you are: extremely sexy. I love watching you walk about naked with your breasts hanging free and that snake tattoo, but your glasses just add a little something.
"I think it has something to do with the fact that I once had the hots for a teacher who wore glasses, maybe that's it."
"So how far did your 'hots' go?"
"Nowhere actually, but she did feature in my dreams."
"You mean your wanking fantasy."
Again I was taken aback by her language. Do grown up women use the word wank? I muttered something unintelligible.
"Come on admit it. You used to lie in your bed, stroking your stiff young cock, thinking of Miss Whatsername in her glasses until you shot your load, I bet.
"Anyway, there's nothing wrong with a good wank? If I don't cum fucking, I often finish off that way, I usually use my fingers as Mr Rabbit makes such a racket, that it might make hubby feel nearly as inadequate as he is."
This is getting more and more bizarre. Jen was standing beside me stark naked, snake tattoo right in front of my eyes, talking about her masturbation habits, her husband's lack of sexual prowess, and threatening to spank me again..
"This isn't getting those sheets in the machine, can't have them covered in your spunk when hubby gets back. Shift!" And she smacked me firmly on the bum. Much to my surprise I enjoyed it, nearly as much as I had when she spanked me as I came.
"Sorry Miss, I don't want to."
"Want to! Want to! That has nothing to do with anything!"
She opened the wardrobe door and grabbed a long handled shoe horn. Long and fat.
"I warned you!"
"Dare you!" said my mouth seconds before I heard the resounding impact of plastic on flesh. The noise was incredible but the pain was minimal.
"Sorry!.....
"So sorry, that was much harder than I intended."
The startle factor spread across my buttocks and turned into a rosy glow of satisfaction.
"I said, only if you wear your glasses!"
"Fuck! You want me to do it again, don't you?"
"Only..."
"Yes, I know!" She grabbed her glasses.
"Go on then!....
"Double dare you!"
Thwack! Fuck! That smarted! The pain again gave way to a rosy glow.
"Shit! You have two bright red weals on your bum!"
I rolled over.
"And a fucking erection! I don't believe it you kinky bastard!"
"It was sort of nasty and sort of nice at the same time. On balance, I liked it."
She leaned over and stroked the injured flesh.
"And I like that too!"
"You are one mucky little toad! But we can't send you home with that stiffy."
She grabbed an item of silk clothing, and wrapped it round my cock.
"Have you ever had a silky wank before?.....
"Didn't think so!.....
"Just relax!" She gently started to move the silk up and down over my cock. It felt good: no it felt fucking amazing! With each down stroke the purple head of my cock appeared, then vanished again as the silk slid sensuously along its length.
Her other hand now started to manipulate my balls. All these new sensations combined to produce the result that nature intended and I came, and came vigorously.
"Fuck! Again! More spunk! Even on your second cum."
We lay there and giggled for a few moments before we got up and started to dress.
"Be careful who you take your clothes off in front of for a few days! Those stripes could be difficult to explain."
We said our goodbyes and arranged the next time with the proviso that I wore a crisp white shirt?
So, duly wearing the required crisp white shirt, I found myself approaching her house on a foul Sunday, the heavens were just chucking it down and I wasn't thinking. Too late!
As I walked up the drive I noticed two cars! Two! Not one! Oh shit!
A man was unloading golf clubs from one. Double shit! To turn and vanish would be a bit obvious! I summoned all the courage my nineteen years could muster and continued towards the door. What to say? What to do?
"Oh hi," said the golf club man, "Jen said you might call. Something to do with the Barcelona symposium, as I recall.
"I hope you'll excuse me but the weather is so foul that the boys and I have decided to go to the pub in stead....
"So I am going to have to leave you two alone.....
"Don't you two be getting up to any mischief!"
My jaw must have dropped. I'm here with the sole purpose of 'getting up to mischief' with his wife, and he's made a joke of it.
"Sorry," he said, noticing my expression, "just my sense of humour. Silly of me, I know Jen is nearly old enough to be your mother. Forget I said it. Ridiculous really. Sorry."
I recovered my composure as he climbed into his car and vanished. Jen ushered me inside.
"I thought you might not realise that very few people play golf in this sort of weather, so I spun him a yarn about you and Barcelona. Actually it's all an act because he's really off to shag Sally."
My jaw dropped again, "What!"
"Well it's obvious really. He always goes out on Sunday morning, hail, rain or shine, either to golf or to the pub with the 'boys'. He always wears his best aftershave, best shirts and so on. We never have sex on Saturday, while he saves himself, and he's always too tired on Sunday! A bit of a give away.
"Don't get the wrong idea. We are very, very married. We get along brilliantly and probably would never separate no matter what, it's just that we are bored with each other sexually. I don't know why we can't just be honest. If we just agreed that Sundays are our days to shag a friend, it would be so much simpler!"
My young brain was trying to compute all this new information. When my blood pressure finally returned to something like normal, she made me a coffee, sat me on the sofa, and vanished upstairs. She returned in a bustier shrouded, but only just, in a diaphanous peignoir and sat beside me.
"So tell me about Miss Watshername, what was her name?"
"She was Miss Peters."
"Go on! Tell me about Miss Peters."
