I continue my affair with my fifty-something-year-old lover as we discuss our next BIG adventure, a threesome with Gretta.
I have reverted in telling this part of my story from both his and my points of view and we're back in the Mature category. I hope you all approve!
HER.
It was late summer, which is when most of London seems to go on holiday nowadays. Certainly, Kate was and in Mauritius no less, so her studio was shut for a month, which put a big dent in my income. Also, Gretta was back in Copenhagen, which put an equally sized dent in my burgeoning bisexual love life with her. Since that first wonderful time in my hotel room when we'd made, as Kate had called it, 'lady love', Gretta and I had repeated it several times and were now, inevitably, very close. We were now more than merely sexual partners, though there was plenty of that, and of a type I'd never really experienced. I had an inkling that I was in love in an unorthodox way with James and I had had strong crushes on a couple of guys when I was younger. But none had been as powerful, strong or consuming as what I felt for her. I missed her so much when we were apart, and when I went with a punter at Kate's studio and did extras, I felt a sort of guilt. It affected me so much and strongly that I wasn't quite sure that I liked it!
With her away on a traditional family holiday for a month, with Kate's studio shut, and bookings slow to almost non-existent at Max's, I was at a bit of a loose end. But, of course, there was always James, my now multi-year, getting on for aged sixty, lover.
"How long are you staying?" was the first thing you asked me as you embraced me when you met me from the train up from London.
"Not quite sure, but three or four days, maybe longer - that is if you want me to," I replied, pushing the tip of my tongue into your ear as we embraced.
"Want you to? Of course I do! Can't you feel how much?" you replied, pressing your erection against my stomach. Your hands, cupping my breasts through the thin top, confirmed that I had, as usual, removed my bra on the 200+ miles train journey from London to Leeds. I'd got used to and enjoyed these rather extreme displays of affection and lust on Leeds station with people milling all around us. I knew now from my modelling experiences that I had strong exhibitionist tendencies and they reared their head as we cuddled and kissed. Over the months, you had cast off your reservations and seemed to enjoy showing off as much as I did. So, your hands were rather adventurous, finding and fondling my boobs, both outside and inside my clothing, and even grasping my bum through my jeans. That was in addition to you demonstrating clearly how pleased you were to see me by the hardness of what was pressed into my stomach and squirmed against me. Eventually, breaking the long kiss we walked hand in hand from the station to your car.
Once in your house, after the half hour or so crawl through the Leeds traffic into the countryside to Harewood, we were again fondling those lovely places on each other's body, though now both my tits and your cock were bare. Our first fuck was, as usual, quick and urgent with little foreplay, which was just what we both needed after not having had each other for a few weeks.
As I came down from the lovely, affectionate orgasm you gave me I whispered, "let's keep count of the number of times we fuck and how many orgasms I have on this trip, ok?"
That was just a typical example of the somewhat juvenile, but nevertheless exciting ways our longer-term, for me at least, love affair was going. Pillow talk had become a large part of our lovemaking. It had got to the point, or so it seemed to me, that the after-sex chat took about the same amount of time as the foreplay, and I liked that. Increasingly over the time we'd been having pillow talk, your focus became more on your fantasies of seeing me with another woman or of us in a threesome. I was not particularly averse to either of these, so I went along with the, at times, quite lurid post-sex chat. It had, though, taken me some time getting used to it, as the norm with the city boys and younger ad industry studs I was more often in bed with was to get up and get dressed almost before the shuddering in my body had finished. Bloody younger men!
"You've never been to Scarborough?" you asked one morning as we lay in bed after our usual wake-up fuck.
"I hadn't been to fucking Yorkshire before we met, had I?"
"Okay get dressed, pack your swimsuit, we're off," was your surprising reply, "it's only an hour or so drive."
"I don't have one."
"What, a swimsuit?"
"No, I didn't bring one as I didn't know we'd be going swimming, did I? And by the way I wear bikinis not swimsuits whatever they are!" I joked back.
"Good. I can buy you one then, maybe even check it out in the changing room and in the sea."
"Check it out in the sea?" I asked, smiling, and adding "Just that? Or maybe a bit more too - I assume you wouldn't object?"
"Depends. Object to what?"
"I'm sure you can guess," I giggled. "I've never done it in the sea."
As it happens there was no opportunity for the changing room as, after popping into a shop in York to look around, we found a nice yellow one we both liked. It would clearly fit me as the top was miniscule, basically more of just a nipple coverer than a bra, and the panties were more of a G-string than a pair of knickers.
The rest of the drive was easy but slightly depressing, for the nearer we got to the coast, the more the weather deteriorated, so there was no opportunity for us to try fucking in the North Sea either.
HIM.
I was so looking forward to seeing you in the bikini, perhaps sunbathing or maybe in the sea swimming, assuming you could swim, which I had never asked you. In my more fanciful moments as I drove, I imagined us in the sea up to our waists with your bikini panties pulled to one side or down a little way as we fucked. Mmmmm, what a delicious fantasy!
And that's exactly what it turned out to be for, when we reached the coast, the sun had gone in and there was a fine drizzle, so it was not even sunbathing weather let alone swimming. In fact, it had got quite chilly, so we sat in the car on a clifftop in a parking and viewing area with only a few other cars in it.
Looking at you next to me in your pale blue, thickish voile, not quite see-through, button up the front, mid-thigh length sun dress, I felt bloody horny and said, "So love, what now?"
In your inimitably pragmatic way you replied, "Well we could turn round and drive home and fuck, or stop on the way and fuck, or do it here, couldn't we?"
"In the car in the car park? Bit risky isn't it?"
