This is the 3rd part of this story. A divorcee struggling to rebuild her life after her husband betrayed her. In the first part, her frustrations about her husband and her failure to find a new sexual partner of a suitable age. Cause her to do something reckless and seduce an 18-year-old in a charity shop.
In the second part, she accidentally becomes involved with a young builder redecorating her deceased aunt's house. Until they are discovered by his uncle, his boss, and he joins in.
Indiscretion - once more
Following my experience with the handsome young builder and his uncle, I daydreamed about sex a lot. It wasn't intentional, it could be almost anything that set me off.
I could be at the coffee shop, queuing for my daily coffee. Find myself eyeing up the baristas or other male customers. Or I'd be pushing my cart around the supermarket and find myself wondering what the male customers looked like naked.
However, it came to a head when I visited my dentist for a checkup. He was in his early thirties and very polite and gentle. He always took his implements from my mouth, after asking a question, so I could answer it easier. I was already in the chair before I noticed his assistant wasn't the usual pretty young woman, but a handsome young man in his early twenties.
He clipped a clear plastic bib over my chest and offered me eye protection. To protect me from splashes or stray material. But today I was only there for a checkup, a descale and polish. As usual, I kept my eyes closed as I'm ‌squeamish over seeing what tools the dentist used.
After several minutes, the dentist asked me something, and I opened my eyes as I replied. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the assistant wasn't paying attention to my mouth. Instead, he made no attempt to disguise that he was looking at my chest.
I suddenly realised I was used to a paper towel to cover my chest in the dentist's chair. To stop any stray water or detritus from staining my clothing. And as such, I'd not considered what blouse I'd worn that day. I'd worn a blouse with a deeper cleavage than usual, as I felt it would make me feel sexier. Getting a little attention made me feel better about myself.
However, I wasn't sure about this much attention. The dentist cleared his throat and his assistant realised he'd been staring. I quickly closed my eyes to mere slits and watched as the assistant mouthed an apology. The dentist shrugged and took a long look at my chest. He waggled his eyebrows and returned to work.
The problem was that after two men ogled me like that; I was turned on, even if it was inappropriate. But it had been my choice to wear this blouse to get some male appreciation. With my eyes closed, I tried to command my nipples not to respond, but I could feel them pressing against my bra despite my efforts.
I could imagine both men watching them appear through my blouse and I felt more turned on. Then I imagined the dentist using an entirely different type of tool in my mouth, whilst his younger assistant raised my skirt and went down on me. Damn, I was getting wet and worried that they might detect the scent.
But I couldn't seem to stop it as my fantasy moved on to the assistant fucking me in the dentist's chair. Whilst his boss received the best blow job I could manage. I was tempted to cut the appointment short, claiming I was feeling ill or something. Fortunately, it was only a short appointment and a few minutes later, I almost fled the building. I got the distinct impression that both men would have welcomed me staying longer.
In the car, I adjusted my rear-view mirror to try to gauge just what the pair had managed to see down the front of my blouse. Which earned me a few odd expressions from people walking by. As I drove home, I swore to myself and blamed my out-of-control libido on those bloody dirty magazines I'd retrieved from my uncle's house before it was sold.
I'd found a few vintage smut magazines around the house and an old leather suitcase up in the attic, filled with magazines dating from the 60s to the 90s. I blamed most of my encounter with the young man in the charity shop, and then with the young builder and his uncle upon those magazines. It was still a struggled to believe that I'd had sex with both of them at the same time.
When I got home, I took the suitcase from where I'd hidden it in my bedroom and put it in the tiny loft. Before I'd looked at the magazines, I'd never considered sex with more than one partner at a time. That seemed to creep into my fantasies more and more often, and it wasn't something I planned on doing again. I'd enjoyed it a lot, but it felt like a very slippery slope to indulge.
But it didn't stop me from reliving the fantasy at the dentist's again, only this time with my fingers buried inside me. It felt superb, but I knew I'd feel a little weird the next time I saw the pair. I also realised I needed to talk to my friends again and ask them to help me find a boyfriend. Sex with myself was never as good as having someone else do it with you.
However, before I could do much about it, another issue came up.
The house I'd bought after my divorce was a modern take on old-fashioned terraced housing. Designed for first-time buyers or retired couples, it was a two up and two down, one bedroom place that was built next to a river. Something I'd liked at the time, but in October we'd been having a very wet autumn. One that saw me on a Friday morning sipping my breakfast coffee and listening to the local radio station.
They reported a flood warning in the area and my heart sank as they mentioned my road specifically. Slipping a raincoat over my dressing gown, I stepped out of the back door and looked at the river. You couldn't see the water, but I could hear it a lot louder than usual. A few steps towards the river down the short garden revealed the water barreling by and at least a foot higher than usual. As I returned to my home, I saw my elderly neighbour watching me from his back door.
"It's worrying isn't it?" I nodded. "Not a lot we can do but prepare, just in case."
"Prepare?"
"Move whatever you can upstairs. We may not be able to stop it, but insurance companies are a lot more reasonable if you can show you try to reduce the damage. Believe me, I know from experience."
I phoned my boss at home and told him about the situation. He's a sweet older man who has a bit of a thing about me, and I'd shamelessly used that by wearing low-cut blouses at work to ensure he liked me. The fact I'd liked it as well isn't the point.
It took until 1 pm to empty all my under-counter cupboards in the kitchen and pile everything onto the surfaces. Effectively making it unusable for cooking. I took a break and slipped my raincoat back on, then walked down the road to the bridge over the river. What I saw made my heart sink. The river had risen and the house at the end of the terrace already had the water lapping at the level of their garden.
There were still a couple of feet of river wall visible at my home, but I doubted I'd be safe. Back at home, I called my mother to fill her in on the situation. For once, she was quite supportive and suggested that rather than wait in anticipation, that I should come and visit for the weekend. Of course, she spoiled it somewhat when she added needed my help with something.
Still, she had a point. Sitting around or staring out the back window watching the water creeping towards the house would be heartbreaking.
I resumed moving things around, but most of the stuff in my lounge was either too big or higher up on the walls. That the flood water wouldn't likely reach it. A knock at my door startled me and I opened it to find council work men wearing hi-vis jackets over heavy waterproof suits.
They were there to provide sandbags to help with any possible flooding. Two or three traipsed back and forth, carrying heavy sandbags from a vehicle on the road and piling them outside the back door. Under normal circumstances, I'd have complained about the mess on the carpet, but this wasn't normal.
One of the workmen stayed outside the back door to pile up the bags. Another asked if there was anything he could help to move for me. It was only as he asked that I realised that I'd not got dressed yet and had spent all day in my nightgown and robe. The robe had loosened, and he was a tall man. When he stood close, he got quite a view of my cleavage. I felt a little tingle of excitement.
Unfortunately, nothing I had in the lounge was small enough to get up the stairs and there wasn't any space in my bedroom. He gestured to the utility cupboard under the stairs and I nearly slapped my forehead. I'd forgotten about my ironing board and vacuum. He grinned and helped me carry them upstairs.
I saw him sneaking a peek into my bedroom and, for a moment; I imagined showing my appreciation for his help. Inviting him in and pleasuring him with my mouth. A wave of excitement flooded my pussy. I knew I wouldn't do it, but it was exciting to think about it. And that led me to fantasise about the other men forming a queue for their turn. Fortunately, one of the others called out from downstairs that they needed to move on. He shrugged and wished me luck in not getting flooded.
Around 4 pm, I packed an overnight bag and headed out to my car. The rain was torrential, and I drove to get onto the motorway to head to my mothers. However, within minutes, I felt I'd made a mistake. Even with my wipers at their fastest speed, I was struggling to see where I was going, and other vehicles shot past me as if there was nothing wrong.
With lorries overtaking me because I was going slower than everyone else, I got off the motorway as quickly as possible. I was confident I'd get to my mother's via the back roads instead of the motorway. A confidence I quickly came to regret.
Don't paint me with the 'typical women driver' brush. But I'd challenge anyone not to struggle on unfamiliar roads. In the dark, with appalling visibility and seemingly reckless fellow drivers. People who seemed oblivious to the poor conditions. So when I found myself away from other traffic, I started to relax. Partially, because the rain was starting to ease off a little.
I found myself eventually on a winding country road. On the plus side, it was wide and well maintained. On the negative side was that I'd been driving down it for more than half an hour without seeing another vehicle. It was finally time to admit I was lost and was looking for anything that might give me a clue where I was.
As I rounded a corner, I spotted an illuminated sign at the side of the road, and I slowed to read it. 'Greenday Camp site' was all I , despite my slow speed. If I didn't see anything better shortly, I'd pull over and phone someone to figure out where I was and how to get to my mothers. Hell, at this rate I'd accept directions back to my home, even if it was flooded.
Over the hedge, I saw the outline of a number of caravans on the campsite. The first one had light showing through all the windows. For a moment, I wondered if I should stop and ask for help. But I'd taken my eyes off the road for a little too long. Ahead of me seemed to be a sea of water filling the road.
I stamped on the brakes, and the car skidded badly. Badly enough that the rear passenger side wheel clipped the curb with a scraping metallic sound. My heart was pounding, and I didn't notice when the car stalled, as I'd not hit the clutch when I'd hit the brake. Praying that I'd not damaged the wheel or got a flat tyre. I knew how to change a wheel if I had to, but that had been once, in daylight, and with my dad looking over my shoulder.
