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?"
