Verity King shut the front door and threw her coat over the chair, she stopped to check her face in the hallway mirror. She smiled approvingly at her immaculately coiffured blond hair and glanced admiringly at her firm breasts, which despite giving birth to a daughter 18 years of ago were still remarkably perky. Verity knew she was still an attractive woman and revelled in the admiring glances she received from waiters and occasionally friends of her daughter. She still exercised regularly and had the thighs of a sprinter, albeit hidden under a Gucci skirt suit. Having finished preening she made her way into the kitchen and perched herself on a stool at the breakfast bar and let out a long sigh. Verity had had a long day already and it was only 2.00 O'clock.
She had dropped Peter, her husband, at the airport first thing in the morning, then met friends at the golf club for tea and a chat at 11.00 0'clock then gone on to meet friends for lunch. Now she was safely back at home and beginning to regret the three glasses of Chardonnay she had consumed at lunch.
At 45 years of age Verity was very much a part of the Surrey social scene, she was proud of the fact that Peter was a successful Venture Capitalist in the city. Her husband's job provided Verity with a five-bedroom house, a Porsche Boxster, three holidays a year and all the money she could ever wish to spend on clothes. For her part Verity was prepared to forgive the sordid affairs Peter insisted on perpetrating with his various secretaries and the fact that he was away on business for half of the year. An arrangement that suited her wonderfully in fact, the less time she spent in his company the better as far as she was concerned.
Verity decided to celebrate a week of freedom from her husband by having just one more glass of Chardonnay and while swirling it around in the glass a wicked thought entered her head. She had recently discovered the Internet and following the advice of a friend, one particularly boozy lunchtime, had started to visit a site that contained a wide array of pornographic stories.
The thought of this illicit activity thrilled her, whether it was the wine having its desired effect or just because she hadn't had sex in so long she didn't care. She had discovered a passion for erotic fiction and it aroused feelings in her that had been buried for too long. She was able to give into her innermost desires and explore areas of her sexuality long since buried.
She made her way, slightly wobbly, into the office and fired her PC up, her heart already racing, blood thumping in her ears. It was all so deliciously naughty, here she was a married woman in her forties, pillar of the community, furtively looking at porn in the afternoon while her husband and daughter were out of the house. She could feel her arousal, her panties taking on a slight dampness, nipples pushing against the material of her blouse. She made herself comfortable, unbuttoning the jacket, so, if she needed to, she could slip a hand into her blouse and stroke her tender hard nipples. She also hiked her skirt up over her stocking tops and pulled her black lacy panties off, placing them on the desk beside the mouse so she wouldn't forget them later when she had come and the yearning for release had been satisfied.
She hated to admit it but she was rapidly becoming addicted to the thrill the stories gave her, her orgasms were amazing, like nothing she had ever experienced before. She had developed a particular liking for stories containing no-consensual sex and BDSM themes, where women were forced to do things against their will by cruel faceless men. She couldn't explain why she found these stories so arousing but their effect was undeniable. She could vividly imagine herself in a situation where she was forced against her will to pleasure countless men knowing that they were all hard for her, desiring her and that they would use her for their pleasure whether she liked it or not. She shuddered at the thought of it, what was the point of having fantasies, she thought, unless they were thrilling and outrageous. In real life Verity very much doubted she would allow herself to be used in such a way. She was far to strong in herself to become some slave to the desires of her and other people's bodies. But she loved the thought of it all the same.
She selected a story and started reading, one hand scrolling the screen down, the other tenderly cupping her left breast, moulding the flesh ever so gently until her arousal forced her to be rougher with herself. That would come later, many was the time she had had a violent orgasm and then blushed to see the nail marks imbedded in the skin surrounding her nipples. But for now she was content to tease and arouse her sensitive skin.
As Verity slipped into a sea of sexual arousal, oblivious to her surroundings, she was unaware that she had an audience. A fact that would of almost certainly have had an effect on her although she would never of admitted that it would of increased her arousal tenfold.
Graham Richards was Samantha, Verity's daughter's, boyfriend. He had popped round to drop some books of for Sam for a university project they had been working on together. He had knocked on the door but received no reply. He could see Mrs King's Porsche in the driveway so he knew she must be in, she wouldn't dream of leaving the house without it, public transport was an alien concept to her. He had gone round the side of the house to see if he could see her inside, check she was OK and had glanced into the downstairs office only to be greeted by the sight of Mrs King in a state of obvious arousal. He watched spellbound as she thrust her fingers into her cunt, head lolling to one side as she approached what looked like an enormous orgasm. Graham couldn't believe his eyes he had fancied Mrs King ever since he had first clapped eyes on her and here she was stockings and tits on display fingering herself in the middle of the afternoon.
She was so deliciously aloof, he longed to wipe the smug look of her face, she had made no bones about the fact she didn't think he was good enough for her daughter. Graham wondered if he was being presented with a chance to get his own back on the stuck up cow. He reached into his bag and took out the digital camera that he kept with him at all times, as a student of architecture he found it an indispensable tool. He took a couple of shots of Mrs King capturing her ecstasy and exposed flesh, a plan was rapidly forming in his head but he had better be quick he didn't want her coming and having the opportunity to recover. He made his way round to the front of the house and started frantically knocking on the front door and ringing the bell.
Verity's eyes snapped open, her heart stopped and then it wouldn't, someone was at the front door! She hurriedly stopped what she was doing, inwardly cursing as her arousal started to subside into the background, she would get rid of whoever it was quickly and resume her playing. She licked her fingers clean, shuddering at how filthy that simple act made her feel and straightened her skirt and blouse. Then, with rather more colour in her cheeks than was usual as she made her way out of the office and down the hall to see who had disturbed her fun.
She opened the door, only to be confronted by her daughter's boyfriend her face sank.
"Graham! Sorry but Sam isn't here at the minute you'll have to come back later"
"I know she's not here Mrs King I just dropped by to drop some books off for her, do you mind if I come in?"
Verity grudgingly opened the door further, indicating for him to step inside.
"Are you OK Mrs King? You look a little flushed"
Graham fought hard to stop smiling enjoying her obvious discomfort.
"I am fine thank you Graham, just a little flustered that's all. Can I get you a cup of tea?"
Verity could of kicked herself, her social manners coming to the fore before she had a chance to remember what she really wanted to be doing.
"That would be lovely Mrs King"
"You know where the living room is go in and I'll bring it out for you"
Verity turned and headed for the kitchen, her knees slightly wobbly beneath her. She was still so aroused and could feel her juices running ever so slowly down her upper thigh. She would get rid of Graham as soon as was polite and get back to the story. Oh God the story! Her heart stopped for the second time in as many minutes. The story and her panties were in full view of anyone who cared to look. The office door was open and Graham would have to pass it on his way to the living room.
Verity had never moved so fast in all her life, her heels skidding on the oak wood floor as she made her way to the office hoping against hope that her little secret would remain just that a secret. She got to the door of the office, her face fell as she realised she was too late.
"Mrs King I am suprised at you, what an interesting story!"
Verity entered the office and felt as though she was walking into her own personal nightmare made real. There by the computer desk stood her daughter's boyfriend, a young man not near the top of Verity's Christmas card list. In his left hand he was lifting verity's sticky lace panties to his nose and with his right he was scrolling down the story Verity had only minutes earlier been fingering herself to. She froze, unsure of what to say or do.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue"
"I....I don't know what you mean, I was looking at a site about decorating the home"
Verity knew it was feeble but she was very flustered and had no idea how she was going to get out of this predicament.
"Mrs King or maybe I'll call you Verity, you are a lot kinkier than I thought then, your panties are soaked because you were looking at home furnishings! I don't believe you Verity the evidence is on the screen, you were reading porn weren't you? In fact not just porn, porn featuring non-consenting sex! Porn where people are forced to do things against there will!"
