Stealth Camping Pt. 5
This selection is Stealth Camping, part five, and our final chapter. To understand all the nuances, I recommended reading the previous work, part four. It is a purely fictional account. As a warning, there is bondage, power interchange, cuckolding, and cum eating. All participants are 18 or older. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. I hope you enjoy it.
>>>>>
The following day I remembered Mrs. Martin had texted me and asked me to call.
"Hi, Mrs. Martin. Tim returning your call. What can I do for you?"
"Timothy, thank you for calling. The reason for my call was that I felt that you were not rewarded properly for your heroism. So, I thought about it and would like to take you to dinner as a reward. It is not nearly enough, though."
"Dinner seems more than enough," I replied.
"Ok, then would you be available tonight?" she inquired.
"Sure, tonight would be fine," I said.
"Wonderful, I will pick you up at six. Oh, and by the way, Timothy, we're going to my club, which has a dress code. You do have a suit, don't you?" she asked.
"Yes, I have a suit, Mrs. Martin. I will be waiting at six," I replied.
"Wonderful, we will see you then, bye-bye," she said, ending the conversation.
"A free meal, who would turn that down?" I thought.
A limo arrived just before six, and Franklin got out and raced around, opening the rear door. I climbed in next to Mrs. Martin. She was spectacularly attired, in a sexy black dress, low cut in front and back, with a slit well up her right leg. Her braless and hard nipples made little tents in the flimsy material.
"Good evening Timothy. How are you?" she said cheerily.
"Fine, how are you?" I replied.
By now, Franklin had returned to the front, and as we went, Mrs. Martin and I chatted casually. We drove for more than a half hour, much longer than I thought it would be. The heady fragrance of Mrs. Martin's perfume filled the air, and her naked thigh, exposed through the slit, was very enticing. As she chatted, she often shifted, and the top of her dress slipped low, exposing more and more cleavage. I had trouble concentrating on what she was saying because of these erotic distractions.
When we arrived at her club, I found it was a giant mansion that looked like something out of a fairy tale. There was a large circular driveway. Steps led up to the ornately carved double front doors. The foyer was huge, with twin curved stair casings going up each side and what looked like a massive number of rooms on the second floor. The Maître D soon escorted us to our booth, and a cute waitress soon arrived to take drink orders telling us her name was Elise.
"She is quite beautiful, isn't she?" Mrs. Martin said, referring to the waitress.
"Yes," I admitted.
So we had dinner, a five-course extravaganza, and I don't know how much it cost because there were no prices on the menu. We took our time unhurriedly eating and drinking. Mrs. Martin was a fantastic conversationalist, and we covered many subjects. We even talked about things that I was surprised someone her age was familiar with. We capped the night off, or at least I thought that was the end of the evening, with an Irish coffee.
As I sat in the back of the limo, stuffed, Mrs. Martin asked, "So, are you up for a nightcap?"
"Sure," I said, thinking she meant at a bar.
When we turned into her gated community, I realized she meant at her house.
Franklin got the door, and I helped Mrs. Martin out of the car. After Franklin took her wrap, she led me to a quiet and lovely parlor, or whatever you call it. It had a large fireplace, two love seats, and a couch with a large coffee table. It was ornate but not gaudy and was comfortable. To my surprise, Mrs. Martin, smiling, seated herself on the couch right next to me, hip to hip. Franklin appeared with drinks, and after we had tasted them, he retired to a seat in the corner.
Again, we chatted and sipped our drinks when Mrs. Martin grasped my thigh. This made me jump, and she smiled, giggling.
"Maybe she really did wink at me," I thought.
"You are such a young and strong man," she cooed.
I took it as a compliment smiling when she leaned forward, put her hand behind my head, and pulled me into a kiss. It started closed-mouthed, but after a short restart, we explored each other's mouths. Our tongues danced sensually, and, of course, my hand went to her tits. I felt the hard nubs of her nipples beneath the flimsy material of her dress. After a few minutes, we disengaged, and I sat back, noticing Franklin still sitting in the corner. His continued presence made me nervous.
"You must pay your butler a bunch of overtime," I whispered, nodding toward the man in the corner.
Her eyes furrowed.
"Franklin isn't my butler," she said.
"Well, servant then," I replied.
Then a look of enlightenment came to her face.
"Franklin isn't a servant. Franklin is my husband," she said, laughing.
Fuck I had just had my hands on her tits, and her husband was sitting there in the room?
"Franklin and I have a wonderful relationship. Yes, we do fuck occasionally, but he much prefers to watch me being fucked by someone else, and frankly, I prefer to be fucked by someone else," she said, drawing me into another kiss.
I looked back over my shoulder, still a bit nervous.
Franklin made no move, so I thought, "Fuck it," and pushed her shoulder strap off her shoulder, cupped, and suckled her tit. She arched into me, moaning, and I joined her and stripped to the waist. Topless, we began pawing each other in earnest.
Breathless, she said, "Let's go to the bedroom, dear."
We went to a bedroom topless, pawing each other the entire way with Franklin close behind. She had nice breasts, but compared to Laura and Peg, her tits sagged a lot more and were not firm. Her nipples were incredibly long, though, and her areolas were huge, dark, and puffy. I soon found myself on a giant bed naked with my face buried in Mrs. Martin's waxed pussy. Using long, flat-tongued licks on her clit, it wasn't long before she got off the first time, and I raised my head and asked her how it was.
"Lovely," she replied, "I love seeing you peek at me from between my legs." Then she got a longing look in her eyes and sighed, saying, "Just as I would love seeing Margaret's or Laura's or both at the same time. But they work for me, and if I approached them, where would I be different from that bastard Ray?"
"Well, the difference is that your request would be consensual, not forced," I replied. "Have you asked? I know Laura has experience with women and perhaps Peg."
"Really. Do you think so?" Mrs. Martin asked excitedly.
"The only way to know is to ask," I said, returning to her lovely, waxed cunt.
