Living Up To My Blue Brassiere

With apologies to Oscar Wilde

(

A brief sequel to "Around the World in Eighteen Lays."

)

John Donne has returned early from his sexual circumnavigation of the globe, only to be dumped by his girlfriend Melissa. Melissa's sexy mother, Dolores, takes up the challenge.

Dear old Walter keeps falling asleep in front of the TV screen after dinner. It isn't as if he's had a busy day, and he certainly didn't have a busy night last night -- I would know! Maybe it's all that staring at invoices, trying to decide whether St Emilion or Medoc is more profitable, sweating over the Beaujolais nouveau. What am I to do? Change the channel? Read a book? Go up to bed and pleasure myself? What a life!

He doesn't seem to realize what a treasure he is neglecting. This morning I tried to rouse his attention and his limp cock when I was getting dressed. I kept walking to and fro between the bedroom and the bathroom in my bra and knickers but he didn't take the slightest notice. I've got such a range of pretty bras, in white, red and blue. Once upon a time, when he was young and randy, he used to jack off into them. When I caught him at it I got so excited that I fucked him almost out of his mind. I licked out that creamy cum in my freshly-laundered cups, smelling of the fragrance of my knicker-drawer. It drove me wild. Now I'm still randy, and he is a spent force, or spent foreskin, rather. Last night I tried giving him a feel. Nothing. So I touched myself instead.

A bored housewife in Norwich, well-endowed and forty-something, shouldn't have to look far for a good time. There's a pub for every night of the year, if you're looking to pick someone up. And a church for every week of the year, if you've got anything to confess. Well, here's my confession.

I'm not the type to hang around the bar counter with my tits half hanging out until some eager fellow comes over to have a look at the landscape. As for an affair -- well, I could do that, but you have to be careful. Walter seems dozy, but he might get suspicious if the guy next door starts banging his wife. (I could think of worse scenarios.) Suppose I tried it out with a woman? Can be nice, they say. Always wanted to find out what another pussy might taste like, have a girl's hands feeling up my tits.

Tomorrow night we have a young chap, a Cambridge graduate so they say, stopping for dinner. Someone Walter wants to employ as a rep. We must invite him to stay the night. Suppose I like the look of him? I might just slip into his bedroom when everyone's gone to sleep. A nice surprise for a young man. A broad in his bed and 36D in his hands, and a wet willing pussy for his hard-on. Not to mention a jolly good rogering for me. Will he have the stamina? It's been so long that it'll take more than five minutes of quivering dick up my cunt to satisfy me.

Okay, so I'll tease him a little. Undo the top button of my blouse. Wear a bra that makes them stand out. Lean over when he is looking. Get his dick primed. At least it will be a beginning.

[

A year later

.]

Only, when I tiptoed down the corridor that night, I thought I could hear some movement in his room. Having an energetic wank, maybe, thinking of my tits? I stopped and thought about his hand stroking his cock, wishing he was inside me. It got me going, I can tell you. I couldn't help touching myself. I was ready. I could give him a wonderful surprise. Like rubbing Aladdin's lamp, he would get his wish. I checked that my tits were nice and comfortable in my nightgown. Then I saw my daughter Melissa's door was open. Twenty-one years old and almost as desirable as me. I looked in. No sign of her. Aha, I thought. Damn, I said to myself. And sodding hard luck for him. I'm a better lay than my daughter, and I need it more. Bigger boobs, more experience, lots of enthusiasm.

And then they started dating, Melissa and our visitor John Donne. Pretty good poet, his namesake, but that was four hundred years ago. Liked women. So does today's John. She moved to London, and now he's on some madcap adventure going round the world. Melissa gets all mysterious when she talks about it, but I bet she's having it off with someone else while he's gone. Another girl, too, most likely. My daughter is insatiable! Well, no more than me. Maybe we could run a competition. Two points for a guy, three for a girl (takes longer, needs more skill), one point for going solo.

At least I'm rid of Walter. Divorced him as soon as I found out he was into that BDSM stuff. Obviously I didn't spank him enough. Anyway, the punishment he got was a whopping big divorce settlement. So here I am, kept the house, got a new car, best boobs in town. Woohoo! I'd win the competition any day. I'll have them lining up outside my house. They could take out tickets. They'll stumble out of here hardly able to walk, I'm going to give them such a workout.

Perhaps not. How about a nice clean-living young man with lots of enthusiasm and spunk, who'll treat me gently and worship my body. Make me feel young again. I'll take him in my mouth and suck new life out of him. An amazing thing, sex. You take what you want without taking it away. The more you want the more you give.

Now, Dolores, who comes to mind?

[

The next day

]

Melissa phoned this morning. I think I've been a bit harsh on her, poor girl. Turns out she isn't the slut I thought she was but is trying to be honest. She's fallen in love with a girl called Antonia, about her own age -- sounds very nice, and they want to move in together. A pity for John Donne. Lost his squeeze. Apparently he'd just got his hand into some Filipino girl's knickers in Manila when he realized all he wanted was Melissa. Talk about tragic irony! I take off my hat to the Filipino -- Cindy, I think they said? -- she was just leading him on so he would realize who he really loved. She didn't take off her knickers for him, but I will. Oh, yes.

[

Dolores calls Melissa

]

"Hi, mom. What's up?"

"Just thinking about your poor John, my girl... Yes, yes, I know he isn't yours any more. Shouldn't I call him and see if I can cheer him up?"

"You're a counsellor, now, mom, are you? What could you say to cheer him up?"

"Oh, I don't know. Offer to pay for him to fly back to Manila. He could carry on with Cindy where he left off."

"From what he told me, she's quite the number. But I think that ship has sailed. He needs some nice pussy, now, though."

"Thinking of anyone in particular?"

"Mom, you know that first night when he stayed over, when he came for an interview with Dad?"

"Yes, I remember it well."

"I think I got in ahead of you. I'm sure I heard you creeping along the passage-way. You were heading for his bedroom, weren't you?"

"What? You were listening out for me while you were fucking him? Shame on you, Melissa. You should learn to keep your mind on the spot. Yes, that one. Down there."

"Yes, mom. I'll be a good girl and remember that. Now then, here's your chance. How about it? I could give him a certificate of good conduct."

"A report card? No thanks. I think I'd rather try out the goods myself. On appro."

"Come on, mom, I'm just kidding. You really want to do the Mrs Robinson thing?"

"I could think of worse things to do with my fanny. Thanks for the number, Melissa. Toodle-oo."

[

A minute or two later.

]

"Hello, John? Dolores here, Melissa's mom. How nice to hear your voice. Just wanted to say how sorry I am -- (

Liar. You're only too pleased to have him for yourself.

) -- I see, good: glad to hear you're bearing up. Listen, wouldn't you like to come up to Norwich for a few days, now that you have some free time? (

Free spunk, too, I hope

.) -- Terrific. Come and stay with me. -- I got the house, yes. You can sleep in Melissa's room, or in the guest room, if you prefer, for old time's sake -- That's settled, then. Text me the details and I'll meet your train. Until later, sweetie!"

That was easy. I'll just go up the High Street and drop into Bravissimo. Such a nice blue bra I saw in the window display. Lots of lace, lots of support. It'll make a good show. And a good handful. Nice long bath when I get home. Drive to the rail station to meet him. See how long it takes to get him into bed with me.

[

That afternoon

.]

Here I am, lying in my bath with a glass of wine and the foam lapping my juicy bits. They've got to smell sweet when he goes down on me. I can just imagine those blue eyes looking up at me while he licks my pussy. Heavenly! My new bra and knickers are laid out on my bed. Got to make his trip worthwhile. Gosh, I'm so glad I'm a woman. Deep without drooping -- without o'erflowing, full. Get your mouth around this beauty, John, my dear. And the other one. Get a grip on these big friendly nipples, will you? Oh, yes, this is going to be such fun.

[

The next morning, looking back.

]

It was more than fun. I hope I lived up to the promise of my blue brassiere. He didn't know where to look, at first. I'm not so crude as to push my boobs right out of my dress into a man's face. Bravissimo helped to make the hint, though. And I sent out lots of other unmistakeable signals that I'm hot and available. He's a bit shy around older woman, and I suppose he still thinks of me as a prospective mother-in-law. I bet he went for Melissa because he liked the look of me. You know what they say: look at her mother to see what she'll be like in twenty-five years. She should be so lucky!

I cooked lamb chops for him, tender and inviting (just like him). He watched me from the kitchen table, just as he did with Cindy over there in Manila. Can you imagine it? That slim girl with her see-through blouse and the sparkling white bra and the little tits pointing up (he told me all about that, later), and me in my flowing dress, the hem swishing around my calves, a bit of cleavage showing and my perfume floating over him, mingling with the fragrance of the meal. Every young man's dream. He must have known what was coming, but maybe he didn't want to presume. All I know is, he had one hand under the table most of the time.

After dinner, we were drinking coffee when he made his move. "Dolores -- I may call you Dolores?" I was tempted to make a lame Dolly Parton joke. "How would you like it if i came to sleep with you in your bed tonight?" He made it sound as if it was just for a little company, to save the clean sheets. So when it came to bed-time, he brushed his teeth and put on his pyjamas in the usual way, and crept in beside me. I was still wearing my sexy blue bra and knickers, under my nightgown.

He picked up his book, and then laid it down again on the bedside table. "I'm just going to hold you for a while," he said, and put his arms around me, spoon position. I could feel his hard-on. I tucked my butt into his groin without making it too obvious, and waited. Sure enough, after a minute or two I felt his hands stealing up onto my breasts. I must have murmured some encouragement, because pretty soon he was exploring my bra with his fingers, tracing the lines and getting a feel of my cleavage. He wandered on to my bare skin, down over my knickers. "I want to make love to you," he said at last, as if I couldn't tell.

His hands went all over me, everywhere I could possibly want. He was good at foreplay. Knew just what to do with my breasts and my nipples once I'd removed my bra. (I gave it to him to keep as a trophy. I know men like that, and it'll remind me of him every time he sniffs it. Maybe next time I'll detect his cum on it). And he didn't neglect my shoulders, my arms, my back, my tummy, my sides, my navel, my butt, my thighs, my pubes. I haven't been spoiled like that for a long time. Alive all over, I was, begging for it. He wasn't just devouring me, getting what he wanted. He seemed to be saying to every part of me, "You're beautiful, you're good, I love you, you make me want to come."

And come he did, in the end, but not before I had climaxed several times already. The more excited I became, the more passionately he kissed and felt and fucked me and the harder his cock stiffened inside me. "Fuck me, John, fuck me hard," I whispered, loving every moment of it.

Afterwards we lay together, his arm thrown over me, lightly resting on my chest. An old married couple? No, just a full-bodied divorcee of 48 years and 36 inches and a well-pleased pussy, and a young man of 24 and a goodly number of inches, who had come home to the best fuck of his life.