Parents' Anniversary Weeend

I'd known Helen Jones my whole life. My father and her husband David had met while playing rugby in the army and despite now living almost two hundred miles apart, the two couples had remained friends, visiting for the weekend two or three times each year. That said, I'd not seen the Joneses since before starting college two years earlier and only done so this weekend because of my parents' party:

It was Mum and Dad's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, so friends and family had gathered for the celebration; though for my elder brother Tony and myself, the day had been more about hard work than partying. As designated barbecue chefs and drinks waiters, we'd barely had a moments rest since two o'clock in the afternoon and it was by then after ten in the evening.

Things had eased off though, besides our parents there were only the three couples who were staying overnight -- Tony and I having been consigned to the summerhouse with sleeping bags -- and eight or ten locals who either lived within walking distance, or were prepared to risk a police breathalyser test. I signalled to Tony that I was going outside for a cigarette and that he was on his own for a while, then slipped out of the door.

I'd barely got my cigarette lit when a voice from the shadows enquired: "Could you spare one of those for an old lady?" It was Helen, though I'd not heard her follow me out.

"Sure.... though I didn't know that you smoked."

"I don't, or at least I'm not supposed to; I gave them up the first time I got pregnant and that was eighteen years ago, so don't you go telling anyone." I nodded my assent and offered the pack to Helen; she reached for one, then looking around furtively stopped and added: "Let's smoke somewhere more discrete... that bench seat, beyond the summerhouse."

Helen set off down the garden without waiting for a reply; though I was more than content to follow that sweet arse as it swayed in the moonlight. Helen's always been a bit special and discounting TV actresses and models in the tit-mags was possibly the first 'real' woman that I fantasised about while whacking-off :

She and David must be of a similar age to my parents, indeed their kids are only a year or two younger than Tony and I; but Helen has now and always, looked far younger, not to mention gorgeous. Though Helen's is an old fashioned sort of beauty, much like those Hollywood movie-stars of the 1960's as opposed to the athletic, increasingly androgynous look that's become fashionable nowadays; I guess 'glamorous' is the operative word:

Helen's probably no more than 5' 5" tall, though her crown of ermin-black hair appears to add a couple more and the ever present spike-heeled shoes a further two; great legs, a pencil slim waist, flaring hips, well rounded arse and while they're not outrageously large, very... prominent tits. Helen had been a walking,talking, wet-dream to a spotty adolescent and in all honesty, she still was.

I never questioned how Helen knew about the bench seat, it's always been there, but it's somewhere that family members take themselves off to when they need a little peace and quiet, rather than visitors; no view or anything, just a sheltered corner between the summerhouse and the garden hedge. Having arrived and sat down, I again offered my cigarette pack to Helen, but she shook her head and responded: "No... I'll just share yours Mark."

Leaning forward Helen rested one hand against my chest as the other plucked the cigarette from my lips; after one small draw on it she returned it to my mouth, while that spare hand stroked across my chest and onto my right shoulder. "God but you've grown up since I last saw you Mark. You're the spitting image of your father at your age; are you playing rugby like him too?"

That comparison was one I'd often heard, but I struggled to speak, wildly aware of Helen's hand sliding off my shoulder and down my bicep, before backtracking to press against my chest once more; eventually I stuttered a reply. "Y... yes, but I p-play at Number-Eight rather than in the second row like Dad and David did."

"Oh, so you've got some brains as well as brawn..." Helen's right hand was still sliding back and forth across my chest; her left now dropped onto my thigh and gently squeezed. "and with those legs you've no doubt got quite a turn of speed too... like a young black bull... one of those dangerous ones... those Spanish fighting-bulls."

I was way out of my depth; if it'd been a girl my own age coming on to me like this I'd have been lapping it up, but Helen Jones... the woman of my adolescent fantasies; she had to be just teasing, leading me on for a joke. I didn't reply -- I couldn't! - beyond an open mouthed nod of the head.

It was Helen who continued, her hands still stroking my chest and thigh: "That's what they called David and your Dad... The 'twin-bulls'... one white and one black, but otherwise mirror images. They played-up to the moniker too, sporting the same haircut, clothes and even matching scars; that one beneath your Dad's right eye was self inflicted, he did it to match the one that David got beneath his left eye."

That was news to me; but even that garnered nothing beyond another mute, open-mouthed nod.

"But of course they weren't a match in every way... It was only your Dad who had a cock like a bull's." Helen's hand moved from my left thigh to the right and stroked firmly upward "and it feels as if you've inherited that from him too."

That drew and incoherent, gurgling squawk from my throat, my dumb silence had probably been better; followed by a feral growl as Helen went to work on my belt and pants. It seemed barely five seconds before I was rising up slightly to enable Helen to slip those and my boxer-shorts to my knees; she was clearly no novice.

As my pants slid down my cock sprung free and swayed like a tree in the wind; it was Helen's turn issue a feral groan... though perhaps hers was more of a purr? My cock didn't sway for long, Helen caught it in her right hand, which slid slowly down to the root and back again, concluding with a brush across the crown with her thumb: "Jesus... Unless my memory's playing tricks, I think yours is even bigger."

I was back to the dumb silence as I watched Helen's head sink toward it, then issued another guttural groan in the instant her lips brushed the head of my cock; only when Helen continued downward engulfing the crown and first few inches did I finally manage coherence: "Ohhhhh yesssssssss, suck it you dirty mare."

Probably not the best of lines and far from poetic... but then, I only claimed that it as coherent and I was already regretting that outburst as Helen's head lifted back up and pulled free of my cock. Helen turned her face toward me, our eyes met and I saw a playful, almost wicked gleam in hers and a smile to match: "How could I possibly refuse such a suave and courteous request."

A moment later Helen's mouth was around my cock again; now accommodating even more of it! I'm not a virgin, but none of the girls I'd been with had possessed the talent... or capacity, for sucking cock that Helen displayed. Helen didn't just use her lips; tongue, cheeks, teeth, even her throat got in on the act, while her fingers and nails teased at any portion of exposed shaft, my scrotum and even my arse!

Helen continued without respite for several minutes and when I finally got my head around what she was doing, almost my first thought was 'how have I not come already?'. My second was that I'd not given Helen even half-enough credit for her prowess: There had been innumerable, twists, turns and pauses during Helen's assailment and those hadn't been by luck or accident, Helen had been skilfully working my cock without quite taking me to the edge.

Almost as that realisation arrived, Helen rocked back on her haunches and released my cock completely; her hands scrabbling beneath her own skirt as she rose to her feet and growled: "Enough of that or there'll be nothing left for me". She then shuffled forward, with legs astride my thighs and lowered herself down.

As my cock and thighs disappeared beneath the body of Helen's skirt, her hand caught my cock and guided it, while the other I tugged her own panties aside to provide a clear route to her and indeed my goal. Helen was wearing stockings rather than pantyhose as I felt the skin against skin touch of her upper thighs on mine in almost the same instant that my cock entered Helen for a second time.

I ought to have been contemplating the penetration itself, but difficult as it was in that moment, I was trying to concentrate on absolutely everything and ANYTHING else. I knew I was close and as my cock sunk easily and deeply into Helen's slick channel, I was desperate to hold off until she'd climaxed too. My concern proved short-lived, it took Helen just three strokes to drive me balls-deep into her juicy pussy and with that third penetration her teeth sank hard into my left shoulder.

The pain of that gave my own climax pause and equally importantly, quelled the orgasmic scream that Helen released barely a second later. Helen's whole body tensed like a bowstring as she twitched, quivered and shuddered in my lap; she'd been even closer to climaxing that I was and I hadn't laid a finger on her!

It was 15-20 seconds -- though felt much longer! - before Helen's teeth released their hold on my shoulder and so allowed me to release my own clenched-teeth. It was, as long again before Helen's convulsions ended and perhaps another thirty before she finally spoke: "Dear God but I needed that. I've wanted to fuck you from the moment that I walked through the door, you're just so much like your Dad; I've been to the bathroom three times today to dream about you fucking me... just like this... right here, on this bench."

Helen stopped speaking when she saw the discombobulated expression on my face; she instead leaned forward and kissed me. Helen had kissed me often over the years, but she'd never kissed me like this before and I liked it... a lot! As the kiss separated her pelvis began to move and Helen whispered into my ear: "But we haven't finished yet have we... Your cock is bigger than your Dad's and it's lasted longer too."

That hiatus, coupled with a mind which having absorbed Helen's words was now whirling, helped me survive another three or four minutes of Helen's increasingly aggressive gyrations and my climax when it arrived still came as something of a surprise. I think for Helen too: One moment I was suckling contentedly on Helen's nipples -- she'd been the one to open her blouse, after becoming concerned that I might rip it in my eagerness; that would've been hard to explain. - the next I just exploded inside her.

That unexpected longevity had brought Helen to a definite second orgasm and from her response immediately after I'd begun shooting my load, possibly even a third; Don Juan or what? I was cock-a-bloody-hoop! So much so that I forgot to ask any of those questions that'd come to mind; I just sat there like a lemon, watching as Helen re-stacked her boobs and refastened her blouse.

Even when Helen stood up, untangled her panties and straightened her dress I remained silent. No doubt with a smug look appearing on my face, as I watched her take a handkerchief from her bag to pad her panties with; I must've come so much it was leaking out of her. Only when Helen turned away and spoke over her shoulder - "Give it at least five minutes before you come back inside... we don't want anyone suspecting." - did my senses return and they arrived with a bang!

"You've fucked my Dad. Right here... on this bench." Helen walked away without reply, while I stared after her, once again open mouthed and silent. I'd been three years old when we moved into this house... So Helen had to have fucked Dad after he and Mum were already married! By the time I'd pondered that one it was almost ten minutes before I went back into the house.

Tony glanced at his watch and gave me a quizzical when I returned, but nobody else seemed to have noticed my extended absence; while Helen was chatting with a couple of other women and didn't even look my way.

The party wound down over the next hour and just before midnight Tony and I said our farewells to the few remaining guests -- we'd not see them in the morning -- and headed out to our sleeping bags in the summerhouse. Our parents and the over-night guests were going out to the golf club after breakfast the following day, lunching at the club after their round and then all going home from there; while, Tony and I were leaving much earlier for a hundred mile bike ride around the Malvern Hills and Wye valley.

As we were taking our leave, Helen gave us both a kiss and a hug of the sort I was more used to, but as she separated from me Helen hesitated for just a moment and whispered in my ear: "I won't be going golfing, so if you find a way to send Tony off on his own for a bike ride; or get back earlier than him..."

Tony woke me at five-thirty, though I was only half-asleep anyway, having spent half the night thinking on Helen's parting words. I expressed an initial grunt of discomfort as I climbed out of my sleeping bag and blamed my air mattress having sprung a leak through the night; then bitched about a sore hip a couple more times as we ate breakfast and got our bikes out of the garage.

We were on the road before half-past-six, but from the off I was slower than usual; it's usually Tony trying to hang onto my rear wheel, but today it was he taking the lead. It was more than an hour before we'd even reached Great Malvern and when Tony eased off and gestured for me to pull alongside, I complained about the hip once more.

Tony waved me ahead and I led the way -- increasingly slowly -- as we climbed into the hills; I eventually stopped near Wyche and declared that I couldn't continue, or at least not at any worthwhile speed. A ten minute discussion followed, after which I watched Tony head on up the hill before turning for home and pedaling steadily back; with the delay that I'd caused, Tony wouldn't get back before late afternoon.

I was home soon after nine and saw that all the cars had gone from the driveway as I rolled my bike into the garage and replaced it on the rack; Helen opened the internal door to the kitchen even as I approached it, she was wearing a black lacy kimono and seemingly little else. "Just you. Whereabouts is Tony; how long before he'll get back?"

"Five or six hours, Tony will be in Wales by now; what about the others, when is David due back to pick you up?"

"He's not, I'm taking a taxi to the golf club to join them for lunch; that's booked for twelve-thirty, so we've got three hours to fuck each others brains out."

Those few words, coupled with Helen's salacious smile were all the invitation my cock needed to start rising; that growing erection no doubt being obvious inside my lycra shorts. "Let me take a quick shower and I'll be right with you."

"Don't shower! I like my men fresh from battle... coated in sweat and smelling like men. We'll use the bedroom at the far end, the one that your Aunt Alice and Uncle George stayed in; it'll freak your Mum if she finds the sheets in there...soiled." Helen had already grabbed me by the hand and was leading me towards the stairs as she spoke; I wasn't resisting, though I stumbled a little -- bloody cycling shoes!

Once inside the bedroom -- it was Tony's -- Helen damned near ripped my cycling gear off me and true to her words, she was kissing and licking my sweat-damp chest as she did so. I found an opportunity to unfasten the waist tie of Helen's kimono and took it; Helen instantly shrugged free of it and it dropped to the floor; I'd been wrong about Helen wearing little else... she wasn't wearing anything else! I got my first real view of Helen and it was all that I'd imagined, she was gorgeous:

Slim waist, wide hips, surprisingly muscular legs, with a neatly trimmed crow-black bush in between and those breasts... they were full, but still stood proud and pert on her chest. Given Helen's age that did surprise me, had she perhaps had a nip and a tuck? To be fair I never found any evidence of such and I inspected them both very thoroughly that morning.

We quickly tumbled onto the bed with our fingers and lips searching each other eagerly; on reflection I don't think we ever kissed, I was too busy trying to swallow each of Helen's breasts whole, while she was still greedily pursuing her craving for male-sweat. Helen herself was perspiring pretty heavily too, though the welcoming channel between her legs was wetter.. far wetter, Helen was just as fired-up as I.

An opinion confirmed when I pressed her flat onto the mattress and manoeuvred between her invitingly parted thighs; it was once again Helen's hand that grasped my cock, to stroke it twice through the coarse pelt of her pussy, before guiding it into the pleasure pit beyond. Helen had begun gasping and moaning even as she'd teased herself with my prick; as it sank into her -- perhaps even more easily than last night -- she released a growl of delight, before gasping: "Now fuck me, nothing else, no bells and whistles... just fuck me."

Who was I to deny a lady's request; though supported on my arms I towered over Helen and in that position I sadly couldn't fuck her and suckle on those cute tits at the same time. I took things slowly, not wanting to risk blowing my load too quickly using steady, deep, almost metronomic strokes; each time I withdrew almost to the tip, then a controlled penetration sliding deep into Helen's yielding cunt.

It seemed to do the trick, Helen barely said a word, beyond 'yes' or 'oh god yes', just a steady stream of moans, gasps and the occasional squeal. Helen's pelvis lifted to meet my intrusions, intensifying the penetration each time I bottomed out and whenever she felt the following stroke was too slow in arriving, they'd again rise up in encouragement.

I like to think that my controlled assault lasted half an hour or so, but the realist in me says ten minutes if I was lucky? Irrespective, it hit the spot for us both; Helen had three definite orgasms before I climaxed and when I finally did, she wrapped her legs about my hips to ensure that I discharged deep inside her. Not really necessary, as at that moment wild horses couldn't have dragged me out of Helen's sweet pussy.

It was in the moment that Helen's legs released their grip that the sound of steadily clapping hands began; I spun my head around to see a grinning Tony standing in the doorway applauding. Having got my attention he enquired -- still grinning! "Glad to see that Helen's ministrations have cured that problem with your hip."

I was gobsmacked! "How... when... why... what the fuck are you going here?"

Tony burst out laughing: "When you were outside nearly half an hour last night, I realised Helen had been gone for a good while too; I put two and two together and thought.... nah, can't be. But then your sore hip this morning seemed... affected, so when you eventually bailed out, I rode up the hill and stopped just beyond Upper Wyche; the lay-by there offers a great view back towards Great Malvern. Surprise, surprise, not five minutes later I see you pedaling towards home, going like Lance Armstrong on steroids!"

Tony was back to laughing his socks off and as I turned my attention back to Helen he added: "A bit off your not inviting me to join you; especially as it's my bed you're using.". I was mortified, then an instant later relieved, surprised and confused all at once: Biting down on her hand in an effort to quell it, Helen too was laughing hysterically!

Helen caught me by the arm and pushed solidly sideways, it wasn't sufficient to unseat me, but I took the hint and rolled off to lay beside her; the unencumbered view of Helen which my departure afforded Tony certainly stopped his laughter. He was open-mouthed and goggle-eyed; probably no different from my own response the previous night?