Glen Potter was about to have a day that would rock his world. Something was about to happen that was so sudden, so unlikely and unexpected that even when he got home that night, he still couldn't quite get his head around it.
He had started a window cleaning round when he lost his job with a firm of builders for 'borrowing' a couple of bags of cement. He didn't really mind, as a single man of twenty-four with few responsibilities it just meant he was now his own boss in every sense, and if he wanted a day off, he just took it. And, he believed, there was always the possibility of finding a randy housewife somewhere on his round, although that had not happened yet. But he lived in hope and expectation.
He was a man with a cheerful disposition, and most of his fortnightly clientele responded well to his easy manner and ready smile. But, of course, there were exceptions and one of those was Mrs Clifton, a tall sophisticated blonde lady in maybe her late forties. While she was not exactly unfriendly, she was very aloof, paying Glen at the door with little more than a 'good morning' and then retreating back into her expensive home.
And so he was surprised on this particular day that she came out and stood watching him work. Not saying anything and not really, as was the case with some clients, taking note of how close to the corners he got. She just seemed to stand there, too far away to speak to, but gazing at him deep in thought for long minutes before finally going back indoors without a word. But if he thought that was strange, more was to follow.
He finished the job, put his ladder and bucket by the gate as usual and rang the bell for payment. She answered the door, but instead of simply handing him the cash, she stood back and indicated for him to step inside.
"Can I offer you a coffee?" She asked, sounding strangely nervous to Glen's ears.
"Y-yes, thank you." He was so surprised he actually stammered his acceptance. "T-t-that would be nice."
She led him through into the kitchen where two cups laid out revealed a certain amount of preplanning, and gestured for him to sit at the table.
"Do you take sugar, Glen? It is Glen, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's Glen. And two sugars please."
He sat in silence after that, still trying to understand her change in behaviour, while she poured the coffee and placed a cup before him, taking the seat opposite.
"Now." She began brusquely. "There is something I would like you to do for me."
This is more like it, he thought, she's back into business mode.
"I want to ask you..." She hesitated as if considering if she should continue. "I need a photograph taken; a very personal photograph, and I wondered if you would mind helping me out?"
That was very much not like it! What kind of 'personal' had she in mind? He didn't like where this was going.
"What exactly are you thinking of?" He asked, trying to sound blasé.
"I need to be photographed sucking a man's ... thing! And I wondered if you'd photograph me sucking yours?"
He sat with the coffee cup resting motionless against his lower lip, completely stunned by her question.
"You want...? You're asking me...? Say that again!"
"I asked if you would be prepared to photograph me sucking your cock."
Glen was totally bewildered, and he couldn't pretend otherwise. He sat dumbstruck for what seemed like an eternity. Never in a million years would he have expected anything like this, no matter how much he told his friends that housewives were continually making advances. But then, why look a gift horse, etc, etc?
"Well, ok, yes... If that's what you... But you're a married lady."
It was an objection made because he couldn't come up with anything better and felt he ought to say something if only for the sake of appearances, but she took it seriously. She glanced down at her wedding ring and clamped her other hand over it as if to deny its presence.
"Can we pretend that it doesn't exist today? And if we can, will you let me suck you off?"
There was a silence as Glen was still trying to come to terms with her offer, but she interpreted it as reluctance.
"I know I'm a lot older, and I don't suppose doing it with a woman my age is a very attractive idea, but I'd be willing to pay you."
Glen looked at her, suddenly seeing a very nervous woman hiding behind the mask of control. Something was driving her, but he had no idea what. He made his decision and shook his head.
"No, you don't need to pay me, of course you don't, and yes, I'd like to -- as long as you tell me why. Because isn't it a bit iffy? I mean, what if your husband sees it and recognises you -- or me?"
"That won't be a problem I can assure you. And in any case, you will not be identifiable."
"All right then, but I do need to know why."
She sat in silence for what seemed like ages, and then came to her own decision.
"All right." She nodded. "That's fair. But I'll explain afterwards if you don't mind. It'll make more sense then."
He couldn't see why, but she obviously could and that was fair enough. And clearly she didn't want to delay. Perhaps she thought she'd lose her nerve if she waited. He didn't know, but no doubt it would come out with the explanation afterwards.
"You want us to do it now?" He asked, continuing when she nodded. "All right, let's do it. As long as you tell me why at some point."
"Thank you." She seemed genuinely grateful. "I will, I promise."
"All right then." He stood up. "Where do you want us to be?"
"In the bedroom. Where else?" She snapped, and then was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean it to sound like that. Would you mind leaving your shoes at the bottom of the stairs please?"
She turned and led the way upstairs, pausing for a moment to pick up a newspaper from the coffee table. Glen slipped off his shoes and socks and quickly followed, watching the gentle sway of her hips and the supple curves of her bottom. He had to admit to himself that she wasn't bad for her age. His cock began to swell behind his zip. He still had no idea what was behind all this, but why worry, it was more than three weeks since he'd had any sort of sex and he reckoned he was well overdue.
She entered a bedroom about the combined size of Glen's entire apartment, a size apparently doubled again by a wall of mirrored closet doors. He had never been in a bedroom quite like this one for sheer opulence, and he couldn't help but feel just a little outclassed. Even so, he reminded himself, it would look exactly like mine with the lights off.
She turned to face him, her feet nearly out of sight in the deep cream pile of the carpet.
"Ready?" She asked.
"Ready." He confirmed, feeling his erection just wanting to get free.
"I need for both of us to be in the nude, so would you mind getting undressed please?"
"In for a penny in for a pound, so why not?" He smiled as he spoke, but it was not returned.
He only had a tee-shirt and jeans to shrug off before he was down to his boxers, and so at that point he stood and watched her undo the buttons on her crisp white blouse. She was trembling ever so slightly, maybe from nerves or maybe from excitement. He hoped the latter but somehow doubted it. She gave a distinct impression that she was doing this against her better judgement, and he hoped there would be no repercussions. An irate husband coming after him for letting a middle aged wife blow him was something he'd never live down among his mates. Although maybe it just might convey a little kudos.
The blouse came off, to be folded and placed carefully on the seat of a bedroom chair before she turned her attention to her tailored grey slacks. She pushed them over her hips and then sat on the edge of the bed to free her legs from them. He watched in wonder, thinking that this was a Mrs Robinson moment, and it was certainly not a situation he expected to find himself in. She was pretty much the same age as his mother, but he had to admit, somewhat better looking.
She stood up clad only in a matching set of white underwear highlighted with black scrolling and reached behind to unclip her bra. She was definitely fit, he thought to himself, far fitter than anyone her age had a right to be. He looked her up and down. Maybe this was going to be better than he had thought.
"Aren't you going to take those things off?" She pointed at his boxers.
"I was thinking." He replied, trying to hide the fact that he'd been staring. "That we should both take our last things off together. You know, like jumping in the pool together."
She smiled; a tiny ghost of a smile, but a smile nonetheless, and the first Glen had ever seen.
"Why not?" Her bra joined the slacks and blouse on the chair and she stood up to face him, her small, surprisingly pert, breasts jiggling slightly as she moved. "So let's do it."
She had the advantage that her body had nothing jutting out of it like Glen's had, and she had slid her panties over her feet one after the other before he had managed to even manoeuvre the elastic waistband over his very erect cock, and it was her turn to stand and watch him undress.
Both naked now, they stood for a minute and looked at each others bodies. Glen didn't mind that in the slightest, he knew he was trim and fit, his physical work had seen to that, combined with the game of rugby he played most Saturday afternoons. And his erection was hard and full, so no problem there to hide away.
And as for Mrs Clifton (he had no idea of her first name), she must have been an absolute stunner in her youth and was far from ugly now. It was true that time had had some effect, because her breasts weren't quite as perky as they probably once were, and her stomach not quite as trim, but she was undeniably still beautiful. He let his eyes wander from her small brown nipples to the fluff of blonde hair that marked the join of her thighs, just enjoying the sight.
"I have to tell you." She was watching him. "Just because you can see it doesn't mean you can have it."
