You really need to read part 1 to understand what is going on here. It's not too long, so if you take the time, this will be all the more rewarding (hopefully!) You never know, if the story keeps getting good reviews, then maybe he'll have to do it Just One More Time....
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They drove in silence to his place.
That does it, he thought, I can't tell her it's over right now. It'll spoil dinner and she might react in a bad way. It wouldn't do to make everyone suspicious.
I'll have to tell her tomorrow.
It's over.
No more.
He was trying to keep his eyes on the road, but his concentration was waning.
Mrs. Carson had her beautifully manicured hand in his lap. Her nails were not long, but they were long enough that her stroking was getting his cock hard again. He enjoyed the scratching of her nails through the fabric of his suit pants. Her hand had been there for fifteen minutes and they still had a further fifteen minutes to get home.
God help me, he thought, I've got another hard on. I'm thirty five years old. Surely I can't have my fourth orgasm in less than an hour?
He looked down at the perfect hand stroking his cock through his pants. The clear polished nails moving effortlessly up and down.
Up and down....
Shit! I better concentrate or I'm going to run off the road here.
Drive.
It was hard to focus.
Hard.
Shit, don't use that word, it'll make you think of....
He felt his zip being pulled down. He didn't say anything. He was afraid to.
The car was pulling up to a set of lights. He slowed down. The car may have slowed, but her hands didn't. Now they were inside his pants and the only thing standing between those soft, manicured fingers and his cock was the thin fabric of his underpants.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I swear. Tomorrow I'm telling her.
Over.
Finished.
Finito.
She had one hand inside his pants and the other was deftly unbuckling his belt. She was an expert at this. And other things.
If only his wife would do this. Feel him up in the car. Give him a handjob.
Then he wouldn't be here, getting a handjob.
It's not like it was a stranger, but still....
His belt was unbuckled and she released his button pants.
He flicked his eyes from her to the road and then to her hands. It meant not much attention for the road, but it was all he could give.
She had expertly made herself up after their marathon effort in the office. Her blonde hair had been brushed neatly back into place. She had applied a minimal amount of makeup. She didn't need much. At sixty, she made most forty year olds look weathered. He loved the wrinkles around her eyes. She looked experienced.
She didn't just look experienced.
She was.
He knew.
Her fingers had a hold of the elastic waistband of his underpants. She forced them down. She gently placed her hand under his buttocks. They didn't need to speak, they understood each other well. He did what he knew she wanted.
He raised his arse in the air and she smoothly pulled his underpants and pants down to his knees.
Great. He just hoped a truck or large SUV didn't pull alongside. They'd have a great view of his hard on sticking out like a ship's mast.
She gripped his cock with her hands. Now she was unencumbered, so she had a full range of movement and tricks at her disposal.
She had forgotten tricks that most women didn't even know.
He knew.
He'd enjoyed them all.
But not anymore. No way.
Tomorrow it was see you later.
