Four women and a young butler bet in a Winter Garden jacuzzi
TAGS: older woman, CFNM, gentle femdom, exhibitionism, removed breast, eating pussy, Superbowl, serving, edge, public masturbation.
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### A late contribution to the
Winter Holidays Story Contest 2022
. Remember to vote, not only this tale but the one you liked best.
Disclaimer. A Tale with much exhibitionism and few graphic descriptions of female or male orgasms. I warn hurried readers that this is a long, slow-paced story, and the percentage of sexual activity is very small. This tale contains very slight hints of the use of handcuffs between consenting adult lovers in front of other women, and a little tad of soft Gentle Femdom.
So please don't read it if that bothers you, feel free to devote the time to other more interesting tales.
The text vaguely hints at the teams involved in the 2022 FIFA Soccer World Cup but the results are all made up: I recommend not betting (and never betting money).
Some characters had already appeared in a previous story of mine (https://literotica.com/s/never-lie-to-ex-gfs-sweet-mom) but it is not necessary to read it: suffice it to say that now Sean and Deedee are in love, period.
English is not my native language, but I welcome advice on ideas. ####
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Chapter 1 - The Winter Garden.
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I looked with adoring eyes at the mature woman who had become my lover a few weeks ago. Until Halloween night, she was just the mother of my (obnoxious and selfish) ex-girlfriend: now her daughter was gone and we lived together in her magnificent house, alone.
She might have been the same age as my mother: but I was in love with her beyond any age difference. And she was sincerely in love with me, young Sean: I was certain of that because, on the day our relationship began, we were both unable to lie.
After that day, we always tried to be as honest and sincere as possible. Her ex-husband was a liar, and I always had a lot of trouble hearing lies, too.
Deedee had magnificent very clear gray eyes, which conveyed serenity to me. Gray was her hair because she did not want to lie even with dyes: gray the hair above her forehead, and gray the tuft above the mound. She looked gorgeous to me. Years ago, surgeons had had to remove the left breast: she had not wanted implants or other fiction, she had simply left the scar as it was. To me, she looked magnificent.
I had told her that night.
Deedee explained to me her own need for honesty (also caused by a serial cheater husband): "I didn't want to lie: I didn't want my body to lie. That's why I have gray hair: because I don't dye it. That's why I only have one nipple: because I lost the other one."
That night, I answered her, "I know. I have always known it. And I've always admired you for it. For your gray hair. For your nipple so lonely. I swear I'm telling the truth."
Come to think of it, if I ever meet my ex-girlfriend again, I might tell her that dialogue under the title "How I LOVED your Mother".
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Today Deedee was waiting for me in the "Winter Garden" built in the back of her home above the lawn. From the outside, it looked like a greenhouse for exotic plants, with black wrought-iron framing in the Art Nouveau style (you know, no, there's even a portrait of the Goddess of Autumn in imitation of the Prague painter Mucha). It was a structure heated by a solar panel: double glazing and sealed glass prevented the cold from entering.
There was also a swimming pool with a whirlpool in the center. It was not huge, but it was suitable for at least four people: and the temperature of the warm water helped make the indoor space warm and moist, ideal for plants.
So even in November or December, we could stand naked among the exotic plants she had inherited from her grandfather, a famous botany professor at the university. Louis-Isidore-MerimΓ©e De la Fayguette, grandfather of my beloved Adelaide De la Fayguette (former married Andersson) nicknamed Deedee by anyone.
She opened the door with kindness and a smile. She was naked, wearing elegant gold high-heeled sandals on her feet and a necklace around her neck. I had come in from the kitchen, naked in sandals, holding a silver tray with the teapot, cups, and a plate of dry cookies.
Deedee had left me a post-it note on the kitchen table to join her in the Winter Garden. I had had to walk a few steps outside, naked, but I was pretty sure the hedges were high enough to cover the view to passersby on the street.
I entered, but I was shivering from the cold, and my cock was flaccid from the temperature.
Deedee signaled for me to come closer. She spread her legs and embraced me with both her thighs and her arms.
Surgeons had removed one of her breasts years ago: but to me, she was the most attractive woman in the world. She stood still hugging me, covering my skin with kisses, and caressing me gently.
The warmth of the Winter Garden, and the sweetness of her caresses, gave me an immediate erection.
Deedee laughed, "Oh, Sean dear, how nice to be young! Your cock went from completely limp, in a matter of seconds, to rock hard!"
Giggling, she teased him nonchalantly. "Ah, no, dear little tin-hard soldier, it's not time for you yet... now I need Sean's brain, your turn will come later... maybe..."
"Tell me, I am ready, ask me anything you wish, Deedee."
"Sean, Sean...don't be hasty, dear, what if I then ask you something boring? Here. There is nothing more boring than a bunch of old ladies getting together to talk about novels, right? Let's say I'm about to invite you to our Book Club."
"I accept!"
"Wait to accept!... wait until I at least tell you the full name of the Book Club. We are the Nude Nymphs of the Porn Book Club. Meetings are always held in this Winter Garden of mine."
I did not want to confess to Deedee that her daughter had once let me inside the Winter Garden. We had done nothing, but I had seen it before. But my tongue said sincere things beyond my shyness.
"Once I saw him..."
"I know, that you saw it. It was locked, and I found the key in a different place than usual. I hope you didn't contaminate it with hasty sexual acts..."
"No! I swear I didn't! It was a beautiful place but we didn't do anything...we were supposed to go to the movies with the others and I was just curious to see it!"
"Good. I know you're a sincere guy but today, let's say, I'm particularly inclined to believe you. Well, back to business, we are four friends. I'm the youngest, but we were all companions in our college years. Now one is a widow and one is already divorced, as am I and the fourth is about to be divorced: or at least I think so, we've been procrastinating without seeing each other for a few months now because of a total hysterectomy (the doctors have told her to stay very much at rest, although I know she hasn't been very obedient). But after these months, I feel like summoning them all: I have been thinking about it for some time, and today I decided.
I often see my ex-husband, as you well know, but I am the only one: the others have lovers, chronic or casual, but none want to remarry. Except for the only one who is still married, Cathy, but her husband neglects her and she is forced to masturbate...
In short. We read the same women's porn novels, and then we tell each other how we masturbated -- both while reading and afterward."
She smiled at me. I replied with a wide smile. I didn't judge, I didn't retract. Maybe to another guy the idea of four mature women with white or gray hair would have been horrifying, but I was only thinking that I would make mine happy... that is, she was not "mine"... I was thinking that I could spend time together with HER, as the song says: in capital letters, H, E, R. I thought I should ask her for a name, but I couldn't interrupt her: I promised myself, sincerely, to raise the question as soon as I could.
"Meetings have a dress code, of course. The first part of each meeting is held right here, around the coffee table: each lady is required to wear high heels and a fancy dress. It's a way to keep us in shape and to keep us from letting ourselves go: there is nothing sadder than a mature woman who no longer has any reason to dress up. The second part of every meeting is inside the Jacuzzi hot tub."
I listened to her blissfully. I felt like I was in a dream. I felt like I was the protagonist of an episode from Greek mythology: the poor hunter Actaeon, who just happens to witness the bathing of the Goddess Diana and her maidens. I had seen a few paintings and it seemed like a beautiful idea.
I don't remember how that myth ends (it will end badly, like a Greek tragedy) but somewhere I had heard that there was a king of France, some king Francis-not-the-number whatever, who was in love with a woman more mature than himself, and he always called her Diana.