Milfs Long Buried Secret Exposed

Hello, my name's Karen, I'm thirty-six years old, married and the mother of ten year-old twin boys, Andrew and Stephen. My story begins on an ordinary Sunday morning in August; well, to be accurate, I suppose it began seventeen years earlier, but we'll come to that later.

In recent years Sunday mornings have been the highlight of my week and I'd expected today to be no different: Sunday mornings are when I get to lie-in bed!

My husband Tim gets the boys breakfasted and dressed and I stay in bed until they've left for the sports centre, at a few minutes before ten; it's mini-rugby in winter and kiddie-cricket in the summer. They have a short coaching session to begin with and then play a match against another local team, or just amongst themselves.

I will join them at midday to watch the last twenty minutes of their game, after which we all go out for lunch somewhere. I will concede that lunch isn't so much of a 'highlight', the boys get to choose the venue, so rather than roast beef with all the trimmings, our Sunday lunches comprise a burger, a pizza or a KFC; not what I'd consider haute-cuisine.

Those two hours in between are my weekly shot of 'Me Time': A lengthy shower, with time to shave my legs, armpits and... anything else I feel needs preening, before properly drying and styling my hair rather than just quickly running a comb through it. Until finally and best of all; to sit completely undisturbed while I trim, file and paint my toe and finger nails.

You perhaps need to be the mother of two lively boys to appreciate just what that means; but thoughts of those pleasures were filling my mind as I climbed out of bed not two minutes after I heard the front door closing. Wearing nothing beyond a short, silky bathrobe, I'd made it as far as the landing, when I heard the front door re-opening.

Damn and Blast! What had the boys forgotten? And would I get dragged into helping to find it? I didn't hear any voices, so I froze in place and kept quiet; perhaps they would think me still asleep and find whatever it was for themselves? I was still there a minute later when I heard footsteps on the stairs; too heavy for the boys', so it had to be Tim.

It was only then I realised that I was even holding my breath; that got released in a squeal as Tim climbed the last few stairs. Except that it wasn't Tim, this man's build was far heavier... muscular heavy and his hair colour was several shades darker. I didn't recognise him until the moment he reached the landing and turned to face me.

"Hi Karen... I'm guessing Tim and the boys gone down to the cricket club?"

It was Sam, our next door neighbours' youngest son; what the hell was he doing here? I can't say I was unduly frightened by his intrusion, we've been neighbours since he was in primary school. Though Sam's no longer a schoolboy: Seventeen... No, eighteen years old; that noisy party back in May was for his birthday and he's soon going off to University.

We must've stared at each other for half a minute, Sam wearing a broad smile and me open-mouthed in surprise, before I found my tongue. "Wha... Why... How... How did you get in here Sam?" I pulled my robe a little tighter as I spoke.

Sam remained silent and continued to smile as he raised his hand; a key clearly visible between his finger and thumb. Ask a stupid question... Sam's parents had kept a spare key to our house and we one to theirs for ten years. "Don't worry, mum and dad have gone to the coast for the day, so they don't know I've got it"

The first tremor of fear, or concern at any rate, fluttered through my stomach on hearing Sam's words. Sam couldn't... I'd known him since was a child... Well, he could, he was a powerful guy nowadays, but he wouldn't, Sam's a lovely young man; polite, respectful, well brought up. "What... what is it you want?"

"Oh, I'm looking for someone and hoped I might find her here." What did that mean? I was the only 'her' that lived in this house. Sam's smile had grown wider, there was now an, edge to it; wolfish, that was the adjective... 'Wolfish'.

Sam was a bit of a peeping-Tom; when I sunbathed in the back garden, I'd often see the curtains twitch in his bedroom window as he peered out from behind them. But that was just kid's stuff, his mother and I had talked, and laughed about it more than once. Hell, I even played up to it, tweaking and adjusting my bikini far more than was necessary; on a couple of occasions I'd even engineered a nipple-slip.

I felt my colour rise at those recollections, but they were way short of... anything more. Heck, that was as much me as Sam; I was more likely to go out sunbathing if I knew Sam was at home. Teasing my neighbours' son before going inside to Jill myself off as I fantasised about Sam jacking-off next door while thinking about me; How sad was that? Such is the life of a frustrated wife and mother.

I dragged my thoughts and attention back to the here and now. "Who... Who is it you're looking for Sam, there's no one here but me."

Sam's grin never wavered. "And Polly Flinders... It's Polly that I'm looking for."

Those flutters of concern in my belly took weight, lead weight; my stomach hit the floor! How the hell did Sam know about Polly Flinders? Sam would've been a babe in arms when Polly was... born and she'd been buried - very deeply buried! - before Sam had even started school!

I, along with my boyfriend of the time, had created Polly Flinders during my first year at college. I didn't look anything like Polly nowadays; indeed once my wig and make-up where in place I'd only borne a passing resemblance to Polly even then. Polly had only appeared in five blue-movies, but those were enough to see me leaving university debt-free.

Looking back in hindsight, I should've said 'Who?' or perhaps stayed silent and looked at Sam blankly; though that likely wouldn't have changed anything, I'm sure that my expression on hearing Polly's name mentioned was all the answer that Sam needed. "Whe... Wha... Who told you about Polly? Nobody knows about Polly!"

"Nobody? Not even Tim?..." I'm guessing that my expression again betrayed me. "...Now that is a bonus, Polly, I'd assumed that Tim knew at least."

Sam's smile had changed yet again; it now appeared... Victorious, I could no longer meet his gaze and my head lowered as I mumbled "So who told you?"

"Nobody told me; it was the wonders of modern science. I was watching you sunbathe a couple of weeks ago; I know you know that I was watching, but did you know that I was filming you too? By the way, you flashed a nipple while I was filming; did you realise?..." I didn't reply, I didn't even raise my head.

"...Anyway, after you'd gone back inside, I used a still picture of your face to do a reverse image search on the internet, along with a tag of 'porn movie'; I was hoping to find a film of someone who resembled you to whack-off to..." Those tremors in my stomach had taken flight again.

"I didn't get much joy, or so I'd thought; but then I opened one up called 'Stoking Polly's Ashes'. It was a real old-school, vintage flick and I didn't think the girl looked anything like you; I was on the point of trying another one when I saw a small scar on the actress' fore-arm and I've noticed that you have one there too"

I'd been seven years old; I got that scar falling off my elder brother's skate board. Forget about those stomach tremors, I was now trembling all over; my eyes remained lowered.

"So, I screen-grabbed a decent full-face photo of the actress, cleaned it up a bit, ran that through an AI ageing-filter program on my laptop and then grafted the hair from your picture onto it..." Sam reached back and pulled two A4 sized photos from out of his back pocket and held them up before me. "A pretty close match aren't they?"

Much as I didn't want to, my eyes rose unbidden to look at Sam's pictures; the photo-shopped one wasn't exactly me, but there was certainly a resemblance and far more than a passing one. I finally managed to find my voice, but didn't think to deny anything; it was too late for that. "OK, so your picture maybe looks a bit like me, but it's not close enough to prove anything."

"Who's looking for beyond-reasonable-doubt? The only court that I'd be putting this before is the Court of Public Opinion; upload these photos onto the local Facebook page, along with links to the three films that I've found and see who else agrees with me... Are there any more films out there?"

I didn't answer Sam's concluding question, three were more than enough for me to be worrying about. All five will be out in the ether somewhere, I'd long realised that, but I've never tried looking for them; they weren't very good in the first place, so must sit well down the Google-list of any search and I didn't want to risk raising their position.

"Well, are there?"

I shook my head in the negative; if Sam wanted to keep searching then I couldn't stop him, but I wasn't going to provide him with any clues. I lifted my eyes from the pictures and glared at Sam "You can't put those pictures onto Facebook and even if you do, the page moderators will take them straight back down again... They'll know that it was you that posted them too.

"No they won't, I've already set-up a fake username using a second-hand laptop that I bought, I can sit in the town square and post them using the town Wi-Fi and everyone will think it's someone called Vera Turner who's asking. You're right about the moderators pulling it of course, but it's likely to last for a couple of hours, ample time for a few people to see it... and download the photos and links."

"So what are you after Sam? You know I don't have serious money and I'm married... And a mother; so you can't seriously expect me to sleep with you."

"Of course not; I don't want anything from you Karen..." I enjoyed a moment of relief and finally raised my eyes to meet Sam's; what I saw there made that moment's relief short-lived. "... It's Polly that I'm going to fuck; she looks like a really filthy slut... game for anything."

On hearing those words... Not 'want' to fuck, but 'going' to fuck, had me again trembling like a leaf, while my mind spiralled back to when I'd been Sam's age; if he thought that Polly was a filthy slut, meeting a teenaged Karen would've blown his mind:

I'd grown up in the town, the eldest daughter of two scions of local society -- Daddy is a partner in the town's longest standing Accountancy Practice -- and the star student of a nearby private girls-school; I was even appointed Head-Girl. I'd only had the one boyfriend, which was Tim; the eldest son of my father's business partner and a model student at his own school.

My life and to be fair, Tim's too, had already been mapped out for us: Once our exams were over, we'd both attend Sheffield University -- it's only twenty miles away, so we could live at home and commute daily -- to study Accountancy. After which, we would both come into the family business, marry and produce the much anticipated grandchildren.

I wouldn't say that either Tim or myself objected to our parents' plan; but I did yearn for something more besides; a temporary detour from that well ordered pathway. To everyone's shock, other than my own, I fouled-up my A-Level exams; not disastrously so, but sufficient to ensure that I didn't secure my place at Sheffield University.

I'd got placement offers from several other universities, the most venerable and highly rated of those being Aberdeen; almost as well regarded as Sheffield and close to four hundred miles from home. At the end of September, I took a train north with my new engagement ring sparkling upon my finger; though that was removed and stowed safely in my pocket before I'd reached Doncaster.

My parents paid for everything; travel, tuition fees, accommodation and all meals in a girls-only hall of residence, plus spending money too. Only the last was skimped upon and though it was couched in terms of 'you'll need to study hard, so no time for socialising', we all knew that it was a punishment for the shortcomings in my school exams.

Not that my impecuniosity proved much of a drawback; living in a university city, you can find plenty of boys to foot the bill if you're young, attractive and prepared to put out. While I wasn't a virgin -- that had been surrendered to Tim the week before I headed off to Aberdeen -- I did arrive there inexperienced; that was firmly rectified by Christmas.

My one frustration though, was an obligation to restrict my choice of... bed-mates, to those guys able to pick up the tab. That situation was satisfactorily resolved when I met Dennis; a local man, substantially older than myself and a photographer. It was Dennis who created Polly Flinders, whereafter adequate spending money was no longer a problem.

Other than vacations, I made only half a dozen visits home during the whole three years and Tim only visited me the once. That weekend didn't go well: Tim had arrived with an expectation of our sleeping together, but with several hickies adorning both my breasts and inner thighs, my bed was the last place that I was inviting him into!

Three years later, with a first-class honours degree in hand -- the course had been easy, I was surprised by how much I'd learnt helping out in daddy's office -- and my wild-oats well sown, I returned home and was firmly back on the path to righteousness: I and Tim too, began full-time work in the family business; we were married the following spring and the twins arrived four years later.

Everyone, including myself, was happy; well, sort of. I have a marvellous life and Tim's a great husband, but things are rather... pedestrian in our bedroom. No real complaints, but not what I'd become used to in Aberdeen; Tim's not in the least adventurous and having portrayed myself as his demure and inexperienced bride, I could hardly start offering-up suggestions.

So back to the present: I was still standing on the landing and as mentioned already, trembling like that proverbial leaf. But that trembling was no longer down to my earlier fears; these were similar tremors to those that I'd experienced with Dennis and a myriad of other men during my days in Aberdeen; I was excited and aroused!

Almost as that realisation arrived, Sam reached forward and used a finger to flick my robe off each shoulder in turn. My arms were both wrapped tight -- defensively? - about my rib-cage and the silken robe slipped only far enough south to display the top of my breasts and the cleavage which lay between.

"Drop your arms to your sides Polly." My eyes were again lowered; I didn't voice a reply but I did comply with Sam's snarled instruction. My gown was loose, it's belt barely fastened and the fabrics own weight was sufficient to see the slick material to slide off and settle in a soft circle about my feet; with my eyes downcast, I watched it fall.

"Oh fuck! You're hotter now than you were then... Your tits and nipples are way bigger." In emphasis of his words, Sam's right hand stretched forward to grope -- it was far heavier than a stroke or caress -- each of my breasts in turn. When his hand returned to the first one and twisted my left nipple, my head rose and I finally spoke; well, I moaned at least.

Neither my compliant posture nor more especially that moan, suggested any sort of objection to Sam's attentions; he took a half step forward and engulfed my right nipple between his lips. Hardly difficult, my nipples were both standing out like chapel hat-pegs; the arrival of Sam's mouth drew a gasp and another of those complicit moans.

Any doubt that Sam might have missed the enthusiasm contained in those sounds was dispelled when he growled "You are a slut; you're fucking gagging for it aren't you." Having spoken, Sam's left hand pressed between us and slid downward across my stomach; no doubt confirming Sam's low opinion of me, my legs spread wider rather than closed as his hand arrived between them.

Sam's hand nestled around my mons, while his middle finger slipped through the soft folds of my labia to press into the very centre of my womanhood. That saw me throw back my head and release a third -- the loudest and heaviest yet! - primal moan; it was almost loud enough to mask Sam's cry of "I was right, you're dripping wet... absolutely ripe for a fucking."

Sam's mouth returned to my nipple, he was now gnawing and biting on it rather than suckling. His hand remained between my legs and his third finger joined the second in penetrating me. Those two fingers then began to hinge firmly back and forth inside me, tapping against my g-spot with each stroke while his thumb uncovered and toyed with my clitoris.

I'm not sure how long it lasted, but not more than a handful of seconds: I threw back my head for a second time, my arms lifting similarly to clasp onto Sam's shoulders for support whereafter my whole body went as tight as a bow-string and I positively howled my way through the heaviest orgasm I'd enjoyed since my college days.

I needed some while to recover myself, a period which Sam courteously and patiently allowed me and only once I'd regained control of my heart-rate and breathing did he speak. "Fuck... It looks like you needed that."

In response I threw Sam the sort of grin which advised him that the respectable wife and mother had left the building. "You'd better believe it... Now what about that fuck you promised me?" Sam was open-mouthed in astonishment as I grasped his hand, turned away and dragged him in the direction of my bedroom... In hindsight, my husband's bedroom too.

Once there I all but tore Sam's clothes off him; the sculpted torso which that revealed was all that I'd imagined during those post sunbathing frig-sessions, while Sam's cock managed to exceed them. Young, substantial and very hard; I was already imagining what it would feel like inside me, as I threw myself backwards onto the bed to find out.

Rather than his promptly leaping on top of me as I'd anticipated, Sam remained standing; an expression of concern, perhaps even shame evident on his face. "What's keeping you Sam... You told me I was ripe for fucking; you've not changed your mind have you?"

"No... No I... I want to Karen... But I don't want to mess it up... I know I'm going to shoot my load within about ten seconds and I don't want you thinking... Well... That I'm always like that."

We stared at each other for a few seconds while that sank in, then with a squeal of delight, I sat upright and grasped -- carefully -- Sam's turgid cock. "That's nothing to be embarrassed about; I'll take it as a compliment. How about we just get rid of that first load... I'm sure you'll manage another."

Sam hadn't replied by the time I rocked forward to slide my mouth over his cock. Sam had been right to be concerned though; barely a second later the first jet of semen hit the roof of my mouth. It was then Sam's hands dropping onto my shoulders to keep himself upright as I worked my lips, cheeks and fingers on his cock.

I didn't hold back, milking every drop from his balls and being sure to wipe my tongue around even the inside his foreskin to collect and then swallow, every trace. Beyond his trembling legs, I don't think Sam moved throughout; though he did manage to voice a whole stream of encouraging, albeit foul-mouthed and crude compliments.

When I eventually relinquished Sam's cock and rocked back on the bed, I opened my mouth wide and stuck out my tongue; Polly Flinders had always done that, to show that she'd swallowed every drop. Then grinning up at Sam, I threw his own words back at him "And it looks like you needed that?"

"You'll let me go again though... you'll let me fuck you Karen?"

"I'd be bloody disappointed if you didn't; though I thought it was Polly Flinders that you were here to fuck?"

"I... I..." Sam's face spilt in a wide smile "...Karen's way hotter than Polly Flinders ever was."