All characters are over 18.
This definitely follows Ch.01 and that should be read first.
Please note that there are several possible explanations of the "room with a view" came to be set up but I considered it preferable not to describe how.
Suffice to say that in the story it is envisaged as (a) for consensual use only (b) with the knowledge and control of all parties involved and (c) for use with over-18s only.
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I followed Lucy up the stairs. I heard quiet music and muted voices from the back bedroom as I passed the door; it was a potent reminder that my aunt and Caroline's partner, Jack, were there. It would have been sordid enough to have overheard them in the adjoining room. It was doubly sordid for me and my aunt to be having sex in adjoining rooms -- with each other's knowledge -- at the same time. My senses were almost reeling.
Lucy led me to the main front bedroom and closed the door. The bed was king sized. There was an en-suite shower and wash basin in one corner. A mirrored dressing table faced the bed. The wallpaper and fitted furniture looked expensive.
The wall adjoining the back bedroom was clad in wood pannelling, though it looked like hardwood rather than cheaper knotty pine. It was rather retro, having been popular several years earlier, but a little quaint by now. Like the lounge, the windows were fitted were vertical blinds. They were drawn closed. Despite the rain outside, there was still adequate daylight to illuminate the room, however.
Lucy turned on the radio at a low volume and stood with her hands on her hips. She cast her eyes up and down me. Her subtly applied mascara emphasised the pale blue of her eyes. I admired her petite frame -- her slender legs, waist and hips, and her B-cup breasts rising and falling under her red satin blouse. But I now felt unaccountably shy and after meeting her gaze briefly I looked instead at her slender body.
"Well James. This IS a surprise, and no mistake. It's a long time since I've been with a young bloke. Have you ever been with an older woman?"
I shook my head, embarrassed. She flicked her tongue over her lips. As I mentioned earlier, it was a natural mannerism but it seemed very erotic to me.
"Relax. Would you like me to change into something more sexy? Or stay as I am? Would you like me to undress for you? Or would you like to undress me?" she asked softly.
I didn't know what to say.
"I know..." she continued.
In one corner of the room there was a small desk -- not a computer desk (though a laptop was on it), but just a small traditional desk. It appeared to be made of mahogany, and so did the hard chair in front of it. Lucy took me by the hand and led me to it. She gave my hand a little squeeze. I felt her wedding ring against my finger. My stomach fluttered and my erection tautened.
I blushed as the reality hit me. A married woman had brought me to her bedroom and was leading me by the hand to a chair. Her husband was right now indulging in foreplay downstairs with one of her friends, and my aunt was doing the same in the room right next to where I now found myself.
It was so sordid -- yet so delicious -- and Lucy motioned to me to sit down on the chair.
"We have an hour -- or so -- before we change partners. I'm so thrilled your aunt brought you, and that I drew first turn with you. Why don't you relax and let me tease you to begin with? Hmmm?" she crooned.
My expression must have given me away. She laughed. Then to my delight she stood astride my thighs and leaned forward. I glanced inside her blouse at her white bra and her pale skin. She smiled encouragingly.
"Oh don't worry love, I don't mean whips and PVC clothing. I just mean taking it slow-ly "(she dragged the word out) "to begin with. You just sit there and let me do the work to begin with? How does that sound, James?"
I was tempted to say it didn't sound as exciting as getting straight into it, but of course I didn't. Instead I nodded. She stooped to kiss me. I'd kissed plenty of times before that, of course. But the next minutes were something special. The best way I can explain my experience until this fateful evening is this.
You meet a girl and begin to get serious. You respect her and don't want to go too far too soon so you build it up slowly. Each date you get a little bolder. Your kisses become more passionate but as your hands wander they are gently rebuffed. So -- for the time being at least -- you make do with snogging. It becomes a substitute for what you really want.
But it is quite something to snog like that; because of course it's a substitute for sex. You want to go further, but you can't. So the kissing takes on a real passion. No wonder the old films used to show only discreet, fleeting, mouth-closed kissing. The snogging becomes very arousing and very erotic, too, because you are hoping that one day your straying hands will be welcomed rather than removed. You hope it's a sign of still better things to come.
And -- it occurred to me that night with my aunt's swinging friend -- you can lose out. Once a sexual relationship has begun there is still kissing, but not with the same intensity. I'd started to lose sight of that -- until now.
To begin with, Lucy and I shared a few brief, tentative kisses. They became more lingering, firmer. I remained seated on the chair. Lucy hitched up her black skirt and sat astride my thighs facing me. She was only about five feet three or four in height and lightly built, but she was well proportioned, and her gentle weight felt good resting on me and rocking slowly back and forth. Her lips were not very full, but she knew how to arouse with a kiss, when to break off, when to return.
I put my arm on her narrow waist and caressed her back through the warm slippery satin of her blouse. She tugged on my lower lip with her two. I can't remember which of us parted our lips first or whose tongue explored whose teeth first before testing whether touching tongues was okay. Suffice to say that soon we were kissing like two lovers on their second or third date.
Little whimpers and grunts escaped from us. Our tongues danced and flickered, then we reverted back to lip moulding, and back again to tongues. It was good to know that we had an hour or so ahead of us, and that there was no need to rush. I reckon we probably spent ten or fifteen minutes just snogging and hardly touching. She continued to rock slowly and irregularly back and forth on my lap. Once her crotch brushed my erection.
"You're a big boy!" she giggled.
But she was careful not to do the same again, probably -- and, to be honest, rightly -- for fear of over-stimulating me.
I now felt guilty for wishing I had been drawn with Caroline instead. I was savouring Lucy's actions and body. I found myself wondering how many times she had done this, and with how many different men. To be one of many felt very tawdry yet arousing. With a twinge of shock and excitement, even as Lucy and I snogged, I found myself wondering also about the number of partners my Aunt Anne had enjoyed
Lucy tilted her head back, and I nuzzled her neck and throat, inhaling her sweet perfume. She cupped my hands over her breasts and squeezed them against her modest but firm orbs. They were a delight to touch through the satin of her blouse.
She led my fingers to her blouse buttons.
"Time to unfasten this and give my tits a good suck, love," she crooned. "And by the way -- I'm no lady in the bedroom. I'm a slut, a slag, a whore -- YOUR slut, YOUR whore. Call me names -- tell me how nasty I am. If you like, that is," she added, self-consciously. "But if you DO like, I won't be offended. I find it a turn on in fact!"
Her red silky blouse was very alluring but it was indeed time for it to be removed to reveal her breasts. I unfastened the buttons down to the waistband of her skirt. She tugged her blouse free and I unfastened the remaining buttons. I peeled it open. I saw her white, lacy bra covering her modest orbs. Her skin was pale. Her bra stood out in contrast with it. The pretty pattern was offset by the smoothness of her skin. My heart was pounding.
Lucy smiled at me. I looked briefly into her piercing blue eyes, then at her slightly dishevelled hair and at her narrow lips. As well as licking her lips she also had a way of drawing her lower lip under her upper one, as if in thought. It was very appealing. She shuffled forward on my lap. Her weight and movement aroused me further. She slipped her blouse from her slender arms. It slid sensually to the floor. She was content to leave it there.
This fleeting image imprinted on my mind for a long time to come. I had always enjoyed the look and feel of a smartly dressed female, and loved foreplay and undressing my former girlfriends when they were so clad. But more often than not they fussed about not wanting their nice clothes to get creased, and about needing to fold them neatly before resuming. It was an understandable but annoying distraction.
Lucy's blouse was smart, well tailored, and probably expensive. Her dropping it on the floor and leaving it where it lay seemed very significant. In that moment she seemed like a mature, cheating wife who wanted urgently to get down to business, and for whom a few creases or footsteps on her expensive, discarded clothes mattered nothing.
She ran her tongue over her lips again and leaned forward. She brought her shallow cleft to my face. I pressed into it, with one smallish lace-clad orb on each side. Her skin was soft and smooth, and her breastbone was hard. I cupped her breasts through her pretty, white bra and kneaded them. She stretched up and brushed her left orb against my mouth. I felt her nipple, and something hard. She chuckled softly and peeled down her bra cup. Though her mid-pink nipple she had a small gold hoop.
I'm fairly indifferent about piercings. But her age and marital status made hers seem alluring.
I took it between my lips and gently tugged it, pulling her nipple by it. I brought my teeth onto the gold ring and thrilled in the feel and the sound of it. I drew her nipple into my mouth and sucked the rubbery point, the soft surrounding tit flesh and the gold hoop. She cooed and whimpered.
I swept my hands over her back and unclipped her bra, then swept the straps from her shoulders and dropped it onto the floor on top of her blouse. I glanced down at the two carelessly discarded garments. The white of her bra made the shimmering red of her blouse stand out the more.
