For those who demand a 'back story', this perhaps isn't the tale for you. It's been written for a friend and what you'll see is for now at least, as much as I know. Actually, that's not entirely true I do know a little more; but the lady wishes to retain her anonymity, so descriptions are deliberately vague and names outright lies:
Good afternoon, my name's Emily, a forty-six year old divorcee from the north of England; a mother of two, grandmother to two more and whilst 'past my prime', I'd like to think I carry my years well. Having raised and sent two children out into the world, I now find, like so many of my friends, that I'm back in harness helping to raise my grandchildren.
With student debts and the exorbitant property costs that youngsters have to budget for nowadays, stay at home motherhood or professional full-time childcare is beyond most. It's certainly unaffordable for my daughter Judith and her husband Gavin; both work their hours over four long days each week, they fund childcare for one day and Grandma-Em looks after the boys on the other two.
It's a labour of love for me; while my twin grandsons Max and Jack might have appeared few years earlier than Jude and Gav's life-plan had envisaged, I wouldn't wish it any different. Things will no doubt get easier once the boys start school, but that's still two years away; until then, I know where I'll be each Tuesday and Wednesday.
That said, the events of this story took place on a Saturday: Judith was getting away for a rare day out with friends, while Gavin was due to look after the kids; some sort of disaster at Gav's work put the kibosh on that plan. It was all computer stuff so Gav could work at home, but he needed to concentrate and that in tandem with child-care, was impossible; as usual, Grandma-Em stepped into the breach.
I arrived at eight-thirty gave the boys breakfast, spent the morning playing with them, then served lunch at midday. Other than when delivering him a couple of coffees during the morning, I hadn't seen Gavin until lunchtime; he'd spent the morning in his home-office. Gav returned there almost immediately after, while I settled the boys down for an afternoon nap; their Quiet-Time.
Once the lunch table was cleared, I grabbed my embroidery bag and headed into the conservatory; there offers the best light in the house. Cross-stitching has long been a pastime of mine and while needles, thread and the aida cloth panels aren't good in the presence of inquisitive and grubby fingered toddlers, it's the perfect hobby for Quiet-Time.
I've no idea how long it was before I looked up from my work, nor indeed why I had looked up; there was certainly no sound, perhaps movement or a dancing shadow caught my eye? In the moment that I did, I saw Gavin standing just inside the doorway; my mouth fell open, I froze in my seat and silently stared at him.
It wasn't Gavin per se which caught and held my attention, but the fact that his trousers were unfastened and resting precariously upon his hips. Gavin's cock was on open display, resting loosely in his right hand which he was stroking lightly back and forth along its length. It looked to be a... substantial cock and very beautiful; but inarguably... inappropriate.
It's been some years since I've seen a cock in the flesh so to speak, but I perhaps saw more than my fair share when I was younger, so was confident in my appraisal. Neither of us uttered a word; Gavin stood there... wanking and I continued to watch him. I've no idea how long we maintained that tableau, but it was my tongue which broke the spell.
Not that I used it to say anything: Gavin's... performance had left me dry-mouthed and my tongue had begun to slowly circulate around my open lips; I was doing nothing more than moistening them. I realised with a start and just a little too late, that from Gavin's viewpoint, my action was perhaps projecting a very different picture?
I saw Gavin's eyes... harden, almost in the moment that I stopped. A second later Gav's left hand rose to his chest and made a gesture, a mimicry really, as he gruffly whispered: "Open it Emily.... Unfasten your blouse... give me something to look at."
I stared at Gavin for another five, perhaps even ten seconds before the moment... The moment which I can't and will likely never, be able to explain: After carefully placing my embroidery onto the floor beside my chair, I sat upright again and with trembling fingers began to unbutton my blouse; that behaviour was little more appropriate than Gavin's.
I continued to stare at Gavin's pumping hand as I worked my way down, though I spared half an eye to watch his expression; it was Gavin licking his lips now. I paused when my hands reached the level of my navel; but hey-ho, it was a little late for propriety by then, I quickly opened the remaining buttons before pulling the tail of my blouse free from the waistband of my skirt.
My blouse gaped like a pair of half-open curtains, my bra clad breasts and belly visible in the shadowy void between; save for the small but inevitable paunch of childbirth, the latter remains acceptably flat. Gavin's eyes were boring into that void when he gruffly whispered once more: "Take the bra off too... I want to see your tits."
This time my demurral was shorter, though my compliance not quite so complete: I knew full well what Gavin was used to seeing in the boob department and had no concerns about my ability to compete with regards to size... both of breasts AND nipples! But Judith's barely half my age and the... springiness of my own youth has long passed.
After peeling off and carelessly discarding my blouse, I instead reached into the cups of my bra, each in turn and lifted my breasts free of their constraint. Once each pale orb was free, I settled it delicately onto the top of my still fastened brassiere, whilst wishing that I'd chosen a more alluring one that morning; to be fair I could hardly have envisaged my exposing it.
I was confident that my display was... fetching, even before I heard the liquid growl rumble out of Gavin's throat and having lifted my eyes from his cock, registered that Gav's eyes, were almost out on stalks as he ogled my naked boobs. Confident or not and damn the impropriety of it, Gavin's responses were quite a fillip to a lady of a certain age like myself.
Perhaps it was that appreciation which hastened my acquiescence... and more, to Gavin's next gruff instruction: "Lift you skirt and open you legs Emily". Gavin's hand was still sliding lightly along that gorgeous shaft.
Having hoisted my skirt as demanded, I took a moment to peel off and discard my panties too before complying with Gavin's second request. As with my brassiere, the knickers that I'd donned that morning were far from alluring; besides, it seemed likely that an order for their removal would be issued before long anyway.
Even as my thighs began parting I heard another of those liquid growls emanating from Gavin's throat; which proved to be just the encouragement needed. I kept on going... spreading my legs obscenely wide... offering Gavin a lewd demonstration of just how... pliant I might prove be; in both thought and deed.
Gavin's growl kept on rolling, his eyes stared fixedly between my legs; I knew without looking that with legs opened this wide, my pussy too would be gaping... A hint of its salmon-pink interior on display, 'looking for all the world like an over-ripe and bursting peach'. How could I be so sure? Simple... That's precisely how Joyce had described it just yesterday:
By nature my pubic hair's prolific and rather wayward; apt to cause embarrassment during my regular visits to the local swimming pool. I'm joined on those swimming-sessions by my good friend Joyce, another single lady of a similar age and one who also labours with this same annoyance; we've long assisted each other in dealing with our shared problem.
Our regular visits to the pool are on a Friday afternoon, so we meet every Friday mornings at either my place or Joyce's and help each other to relieve our problem. A weekly depilation, followed by a thorough application of moisturising cream puts paid to our pubic hair issues and yes, it's not unusual for us to deal with one or two other frustrations at the same time.
Today being Saturday, there was barely a hint of regrowth so Gavin gained the full benefit of Joyce's effort and attention. Those staring eyes, the still ongoing liquid-growl and a strengthening of the strokes that Gavin was applying to his cock all evinced that Joyce's labours had not been in vain; while a growled "Use a hand... finger yourself Em." confirmed it.
How could I refuse? Hell, if Gavin's order had arrived just a few seconds later it would've arrived too late; my hands were already headed in that direction when he spoke! Any thoughts of propriety or simple good sense were now long gone and with my eyes now staring equally at Gavin's exposed cock, I issued a liquid, almost bestial growl of my own.
My right hand encompassed my whole mound and squeezed; that alone a caused a second growl. With index and little fingers hooked into claws and dragging through the soft folds of my vulva, the two central fingers remained arrow straight and speared into the wet, unresisting void between. That intrusion drew the third and deepest yet, of my feral growls.
Gavin's next demand drew my attention away from his cock and back to Gavin's face. "Harder Emily... I want to see you bring yourself off." As ever, my response was immediate and the combination of that demand, my own fingers and Gavin's watchful eyes ensured that his required outcome wasn't long in arriving either.
I must've looked a wanton sight: Back arched, my whole body taut as a bowstring, as I writhed and twitched my way through a powerful, but silent - save for my grinding teeth and a staccato bleating -- orgasm. I'd managed to retain sufficient awareness and self-control not to rouse the children; though in those moments, any awareness of Gavin had been lost.
By the time that my orgasm had passed and I'd returned to planet earth, Gavin had crossed the room and was standing over me; his cock still resting in his open hand, but now just inches from my face. Gavin didn't say a word, instead his eyes flicked back and forth between mine and that gorgeous shaft; Gavin didn't need to speak, my lips parted as I pressed forward to accommodate Gavin's cock.
It'd been some years since I'd last sucked on a stiff cock, but but back in the day I'd garnered something of a reputation for my prowess and I was pleased to discover that fellatio's a skill akin to riding a bike... I hadn't forgotten and I was still bloody good; Gavin's hand entwining roughly in my hair as he growled "Mmmm you are a greedy bitch Emily" attested to that.
