Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.
All email comments good or critical welcomed. Please note that all email comments from an invalid email address will be deleted immediately and will not be read, so please take care when entering your email if you want a reply. Rude or abusive comments may result in blocking. Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat and the ass is a bum or arse.
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I finished cleaning my teeth and went to join Paul in bed. I left the cover slightly off and rolled over, rubbing my hand on his sadly soft cock.
"Hmm?" Paul mumbled.
"I think I want to feel you inside my baby maker," I whispered, "make love to me." I rubbed his cock through his PJ bottoms and slipped my hand through the opening and held his cock, slowly wanking him.
"Not tonight Mary, I am knackered," Paul said and rolled onto his side.
I could remember the days when we shagged two or three times a day. When I used to wear panty liners just to soak up his spunk. His desires had waned, mine were the same. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to feel him stretch my fanny, I wanted to feel his balls on my thighs, I wanted his pubic mound to crush my clitoris.
I lay back and parted my legs. There was no choice, it had to be self-service. I didn't care if it disturbed Paul's sleep, I wanted to cum. I eased my labia apart and ran my finger gently along my valley, circling my fanny and then slowly back up to brush against my clitoris, ooh that was nice. A little jolt and the warmth started. I licked my lips with my tongue and moved back down to my entrance, circling and then dipping my finger gently inside, my nail grazing the little scar tissue of my G spot.
I was pretty sure I was murmuring and mumbling and definitely groaning in pleasure, I didn't care, Paul had his chance and had rebuffed me. I moved my finger around, stretching my fanny, feeling the moistness increase as my arousal grew. I rotated my hand back, finger leaving me, my fanny feeling empty and needy, and I found my clitoris once more. A light dab. Then a heavier more pressing one, and then a light one again.
Oh God, I was so close, closer than I had thought. My crotch was feeling like a cauldron of fire, flames full of electric made their way to my nipples and to my toes, I rubbed my little button again, and again, harder, then softly.
"Fuck!" My orgasm erupted and I arched my back, my whole body spasming as waves of pain and pleasure coursed through me. God that was a big one. I relaxed back into the bed.
"Really?" Paul said as he plumped his pillow.
"You had first refusal darling," I said as I pulled the covers over me, sure I would sleep well. As I was just going into the land of slumber, I realised our bedroom door was partially open, I guess Paul hadn't pulled it to when he came in after me. Oh well.
Paul wasn't in bed when I awoke in the morning. I threw the cover back and headed to the ensuite. I took my negligee off and dropped it in the hamper, turned the shower on, and as the water warmed, I sat on the loo.
As I washed, my fingers rubbed into my sex, of course, and memories of last nights orgasm danced in my head. Oh, why wouldn't Paul? Why wasn't he interested? Was he having an affair? All kinds of thoughts played in my mind as I cleansed. As I got out of the shower something caught the corner of my eye, I looked around but couldn't see anything, I looked out of the ensuite but nothing there. Odd. Oh well.
I put my pale blue chemise on, silky and a bit too sheer to be worn on its own with a teenage son in the house and added my silk robe over the top. Knees down, visible, knees up, covered, and went down to do breakfast.
Paul was drinking tea and had some toast and marmalade in front of him. "Did you do me anything?" I asked.
"Tea is in the pot, toast on the side if you want it." His eyes were on his tablet, presumably looking at today's news. The news was always the same these days, a war here, a terrorist attack there. I just didn't bother with it.
"Thank you, sweetheart," I said and popped a kiss onto his forehead. He gripped my arm and gave it a squeeze and then went back to his tablet. I sat at the Island and poured a tea and buttered a piece of toast. As I munched on my toast, I wondered again about Paul. He really didn't seem interested these days. I was still in good shape, no excess weight, boobs slightly saggy, no wrinkles or grey hairs that I knew of. We didn't fall out or have arguments. He held my hand when we went out, he just simply showed no interest in me sexually.
"Are we alright baby?" I asked
"What do you mean?"
"Last night, you rejected me again."
"I love you baby, I just don't have those needs anymore."
"Well I do."
"You do what mum?" Peter asked as he came into the kitchen, hair all over the place, dark stubble on his face, his pyjama bottoms barely held in place. God, he looked a mess in the mornings.
"Oh, nothing darling. What do you want for breakfast? Dad made some tea, and there is a piece of toast if you want it."
"Oh, er, can I have some bacon and egg mum?"
"Of course you can sweetie." I put the last of my toast in my mouth and washed it down with some tea. I got up and opened the fridge taking out the bacon.
"This is the last of the bacon Paul, we will need to go to the farm shop."
"Okay, we can go after breakfast if you want, then I need to go into the office later."
"Okay yes," I answered. The frying pan was hot, and I put the last two rashers of middle bacon into the pan, there was a nice sounding sizzle and the aroma of cooking bacon started to fill the kitchen. I took two eggs from the egg stand and started shaking them to get the yolks properly in the middle.
I turned the bacon and cracked the eggs into the pan. "Is that one piece of toast enough darling?" I asked Peter.
"Yes mum."
I put the toast on a plate and then returned to the frying pan. I spooned hot fat over the eggs to properly set them and then served them on to the toast with the bacon.
Peter broke the yolks and let it run over his bacon. His preference was a bit of toast, a cut of bacon and a smear of yolk. We all ate the same things in different ways I suppose.
"I could go to the farm shop with you mum if dad doesn't want to." Peter said. I wished he wouldn't speak with his mouth full.
"Okay son, yes that would help me," Paul said as he turned his tablet off and stood. "I will just go and shower, then I will be out from under your feet."
'It's not my feet I want you to be under sweetheart' I thought as I watched him leave the kitchen and head off upstairs. 'He still has a nice bum' I mused. Goodness I was still feeling horny.
I went up and changed, shouting to Peter through his bedroom door that he needed get ready as I wanted to go sooner rather than later. Bra and then a sweater, knickers and leggings, yes, decent and warm enough for a spring day.
"Come on Peter," I called as I went downstairs and checked I had my purse and keys in my bag. Peter appeared and sauntered down the stairs as if there were no urgency anywhere in the world.
"Bye Paul," I called, we are off now."
"Bye love, see you later, I shall be home around five."
"Come on Peter, let's get off." I opened the front door and ushered him through, blipping the car unlocked as I followed. It was a short journey around the ring road and through a couple of villages and then we were there.
It was a strange place, not just a shop that sold their own produce, but a fully commercial set up. They had their own abattoir and meat processing centre. They also washed and graded their own fruit and vegetables. It was quite a large concern. Luckily the retail side was quite empty, and we parked close to the door.
"Let me know if you fancy anything in particular Peter," I said as we walked inside. Rows of chillers full of produce, and then a large, glassed counter with all variations of meat stacked up.
I ordered some Cumberland sausage rings, Middle bacon, sirloin steaks, pork ribs and a big chicken that I thought would do us a good Sunday lunch.
"I'll have some Jerky mum please," Peter said. I don't know how he can eat it; I tried it and it does nothing for me, just chewy and leathery.
As I loaded the meats into the boot of the car, bending forward to get into the back corner, Peter stood behind me, not helping of course, just watching. "You could have got in the car Peter," I said, "rather than just stand there gawking." He didn't say anything, nor did he move. Boys.
He was quiet in the car on the way home, no moans, so typical of a teenage boy, or quips, nothing, he just sat there, slightly sideways. Every time I glanced across at him he was looking at me. I did feel a little uncomfortable as I drove, I had slid on the seat and my leggings were pulled up into my crotch, I couldn't really grab them and pull them out, not in traffic, and not with Peter sat there. I just mentally chided myself and suffered in silence.
When we got home, Peter again just stood behind me as I emptied the shopping from the boot. "Get the keys and open the front door Peter, come on, make yourself useful" I said, "The keys are in my bag."
He walked up and rummaged through my handbag and found the keys, bumping into me as he did so. Oh dear, was he thinking about a girl I wondered. I was pretty sure I knew what that was that rubbed against my thigh. Boys.
I was sure that my leggings had chaffed my thigh, as soon as the shopping was away, I would have to go upstairs and rub myself with some cream, it felt hot and burny at the tops of my legs.
Leaving Peter drinking a glass of water I went upstairs and in my room I tried to look behind me in the mirror. As I bent forward the leggings were well and truly 'in', leaving no doubt as to what lay beneath, a fine camel toe. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or be mortified. No wonder Peter was stood behind, and that probably explains his bulge. Boys.
I grabbed my E45 and sat on the bed. I pulled my leggings down and off and examined my thigh. Yes, rather red. I squirted some lotion onto my palms and rubbed it into the sore red parts. My knickers were also irritating my skin, so I pulled them down and off. As I rubbed the lotion, I managed to brush against my sex a couple of times and I found myself holding my breath. I took the E45 and held it above my crease and squirted. That took my breath away. I was hot and aroused still, and the cold lotion made me gasp. I started to rub the lotion along my crease and then around my clitoris, my arousal growing as I gently massaged my labia. I lay back and closed my eyes, imagining Paul were there, his fingers doing the work.
I knew I was grunting, I cared not, my fingers dipped into to me, I was very wet inside, and then back up to my clitoris which felt swollen and stood proud of my lips. As my climax arrived and my orgasm rippled through my body I saw a movement at my door, just briefly, reflected in my wardrobe mirror doors. I couldn't stop, not at that moment as I lay gasping, panting and coming down from my high.
