Lewis Carter's Sunday mornings followed the same sequence of events for three consecutive weeks. He dressed in his running clothes, jogged to the little Baptist church, let himself in through the unlocked back door, walked over to where Claire Harrison was reclining on a front row pew with one foot over the back and the other dangling near the floor, and knelt down.
The first time she worn calf-length boots with zips up the sides, the second time shoes with stay-up thigh-highs, and on that third occasion nothing on her legs or feet at all. Other than that, the fifty-three-year-old woman who used him as her pleasure toy looked almost the same every week. She always wore a white blouse over a white bra, and a plain brown pleated skirt with nothing underneath to cover the glistening pink glistening crevice at the top of her thighs which widened as he got closer.
In a way, he was flattered that she desired him with such intensity and took a little pride from being able to bring her to a climax so quickly, although deep down he knew that it wasn't because of his oral skills. Lewis Carter could tell from the way Claire Harrison practically dripped with excitement, that all he really had to do was put his face between her legs, lick, kiss or nibble just a little, and she'd shudder like a woman operating a jack hammer.
He also knew that it was having the ability to make him do whatever she wanted that excited her even more than the fact that he was thirty years younger, and that they weren't the reasons for the orgasms which followed: the second mini-one, and the third earth-moving, pew-rattling, deep-throated screaming one were entirely down to him. Lewis Carter not only had an instinctive understanding of how to please a woman, but he was also a very quick learner. He understood right from the very first time his head had been between her legs exactly what she wanted him to do and took an immense amount of satisfaction at being able to make a woman so incredibly happy. He actually revelled in his ability to leave Claire Harrison lying on her back in the little church so exhausted that she couldn't stand or even speak, and no longer cared that she was coercing him into doing it. The only thing that bothered him was having to run home to deal with his hard-on in the shower while her taste still lingered in his mouth, and his ears still felt the warmth of her inner thighs.
But on that particular Sunday, just as he's started to run up the hill that led to his parents' house, an old white pulled up alongside him as its window powered down. Lewis Carter thought that the driver must have been in need of directions to somewhere and politely leant in to offer his help.
Rachel Grant, another of his mother's friends, half-smiled in response and said, "Get in. It's hard enough for the car and you look exhausted."
He instinctively thought that she was talking about his erection which must have been obvious when it was level with the open window but couldn't even begin to guess at what her intentions were. The last time they'd met, Rachel Grant had pushed a vibrating butt-plug between his buttocks which she and three friends had used to make him go down on them, and Claire Harrison had operated as a "motivation" for him to wear her underwear so she could take the embarrassing pictures she'd been using as blackmail for the last four weeks.
Lewis hesitated for a few seconds, decided that he was too tired to run up a steep hill, and got in expecting to be told what she had planned.
Rachel Grant had felt guilty about what she, Emma, Annie and Claire had done to Lewis ever since the day they'd sunbathed in his parents' garden, got irritated by his ogling, and decided to teach him a lesson which went way beyond what any of them had intended, but that was first time she'd seen him and on impulse decided to stop, offer him a lift home and try to apologise.
She'd been playing tennis that morning and was still wearing an all-white outfit of polo top, sports shoes, ankle socks and a pleated mid-thigh length skirt which fluttered in the air circulated by the car's cooling fan. Lewis tried to look directly forwards, but he couldn't take his eyes away from Emma's very-shapely-for-fifty-two-year-old knees, and that made him feel even more self-conscious about the erection he thought Rachel had been talking about.
But he was wrong.
Rachel Grant had been referring to her old car's difficulties in getting up the hill when she'd offered him a lift and was intending only on using the drive to his parents' house as a chance to apologise for her actions 6 weeks previously as the journey wouldn't last long enough for anything too embarrassing.
However, she saw that he couldn't even look up from the floor, felt even more guilty and tried to break what had become in just a few seconds a very awkward silence by complimenting him on how he looked in the graduation folder under his mother's coffee table.
"I was looking at some pictures of you the other day," she said trying to sound friendly, but was suddenly so nervous that the words came out with a rasp due to her dry throat, "You look so handsome all dressed up, even though you're obviously nervous in everyone, but that's understandable. What young man wouldn't have felt the way you did posing like that?"
He felt a lump in his throat as a cold sweat formed on his forehead, and his heart started to race as he tried to process why Claire Harrison had decided to show her friends the embarrassing pictures of him wearing women's underwear. He thought he'd done everything she'd asked, and thought he'd done it even better then she could possibly have expected, but she'd circulated her pictures of him anyway. Was this the only woman she'd given them to, or were there others? And what was this one going to do with him when they got to her house?
Rachel glanced over at Lewis who was still staring silently downwards and felt so guilty that what she'd done had left him unable to even talk to her about his graduation ceremony it became impossible to think clearly. She so much wanted to say "sorry" but couldn't find the words. Any words. Her head was so scrambled that she regretted offering Lewis a lift, made a promise to herself not to see him again if at all possible, and desperately hoped that nobody would see the two of them in her car just so that he wouldn't come up in conversation.
And that was why Rachel Grant panicked when she saw her friend Emma washing the family car on the driveway outside their house. All she should have done was drive past knowing that nobody would even suspect her of anything other than giving her friend's son a lift up a steep hill after she'd played tennis. But she didn't. She felt so guilty about her part in what had happened, so self-conscious just from being in a car with a 23-year-old she'd used and abused six week earlier, and so utterly unable to think clearly in her desperate desire not to be seen with him, that she instinctively spat out the words: "Get down."
Lewis Carter had spent five minutes staring at Rachel grant's knees, admiring what he could see of her legs and wondering what she intended to make him do in return for not showing anybody else pictures of him posing in different pairs of a middle-aged woman's underwear that he'd pulled out of a laundry hamper.
And that had been five minutes telling himself to prepare for having his head between the legs of another fifty-plus-year-old woman in less than half an hour and having to wait even longer for the shower he so desperately needed to relieve the pressure in his pants.
He was surprised, but not perturbed in anyway. If she'd decided not to wait until getting him home, he didn't particularly care. It would be uncomfortable and challenging, but it might mean an earlier shower than the one he'd been expecting, so he unclipped his safety belt, slid into the footwell, turned onto his side, lifted her pleated tennis skirt with one hand, stuck his thumb up the inside leg of her panties, and pulled them aside.
Then he leant over and pressed his tongue as far into her pulsating pink slit as it would go as Rachel Grant gripped the steering wheel and tried to focus on what had been the simple task of driving an old car along on empty road.
