Tim's Temptation

Tim stepped out of the shower that Saturday morning, towelled himself and contemplated an unsatisfied erection. Christina, his partner, was away on a company weekend seminar and wouldn’t be back until the following evening, which left only one solution. In the bedroom, he sorted through Chris’s lingerie drawer, chose a pair of pale blue knickers and retired to the bed.

Wrapping the knickers round his shaft and stroking gently, savouring the stimulation of the soft material, he recalled the last time Chris had worn them, They were driving home from the cinema when Chris slid an enquiring hand into his crotch.

“Horny?” Tim asked, knowing the answer.

“Mm. You?”

“Any time you want.”

“Like now?”

“I do happen to be driving. Can it wait till we get home?”

“Don’t think so. I was wondering about that car park behind Saunders. Remember?”

They were almost there. The car park, unlit and at night unoccupied, was at the rear of a builders’ merchants. They had used it before, as Chris reminded him. He swung in through the approach and round to the dark area behind the building.

“Perfect,” said Chris, already unbuttoning the front of her blouse and lifting her breasts from her bra. As Tim bent to tease a firm nipple with pursed lips, she pushed her skirt up to her waist, moved the strip of pale blue to one side and began to finger her cunt urgently. “Darling, I knew we should have fucked before we came out. Now I’m so wet, I couldn’t have waited till we got home.”

They had been together for more than a year and the sex was getting better all the time. Tim had been with a number of other women before he met Chris, but none with her appetite for sex and unashamed frankness about developing it. From their earliest days together they had been open with each other about their needs and desires. Anything one could do to please the other, was done. There were no taboos.

When they were apart, they spoke on the phone daily, spoke about the routine events at home and work, and also about their physical feelings. Chris assured him that she would never go with another man, and he believed her. However, they agreed that, if the opportunity arose, there was no reason why she should not enjoy another woman. It hadn’t happened yet, and they were both disappointed.

For now, though, they were in a car park, just the two of them, intent on swift gratification. Chris said, “I have to get off - but can you do me carefully?”

“Tell me.”

“Let me have your cock in me but don’t come - can you do that? So we can start again at home, and take our time.”

It wasn’t easy but they managed. Outside the car, Chris leaned forward through the open door with her arms resting on the seat. Tim slid the knickers down to her ankles, opened his zip and eased his cock into her. She was right: her cunt was liquid and demanding.

“That’s just what I want,” she said. “Take it slowly and I’ll do the rest. If it gets too much, pull out. But if you can, stay there till I finish.”

While Tim concentrated on long, slow, deep penetration and withdrawal, Chris dealt with herself manually. At her climax he had enough control to stay buried in her to the hilt, enjoying the contractions round the base of his cock.

Chris sighed happily, straightening up. “My darling, that was very clever of you. I’ll thank you properly when we get home.”

And, of course, she did. But now, as he lay on the bed stroking himself with the warm, smooth material, he conjured up the image of Chris in the dark car park stepping out of the blue knickers, wiping first his cock and then herself before slipping them into her handbag. The memory quickened his hand until the moment came and his ejaculation soaked into them, a dark stain spreading across the pale blue.

He dropped the wet knickers into the linen basket. When they spoke later in the day, he would tell her, and when she came home she would find the evidence and be pleased.

Meanwhile, he planned a surprise lunch for his mother. A couple of years earlier, his father had walked out of the family home to go and live with his secretary. Cheryl, his wife, had long suspected the affair and was almost relieved when the cancer was removed. It was in the aftermath of the divorce that Cheryl and her son talked for the first time about sex; the subject hadn’t exactly been off limits but, as in so many families, there was an unspoken assumption that Tim had made his own discoveries and didn’t need any embarrassing instruction over the dinner table. It was Tim’s announcement that he was moving in with Chris that prompted his mother’s advice.

“I’m sure we don’t need to talk birds and bees,” she said, “and at twenty-three you are both old enough to make your own decisions about contraception. But I’ll give you some advice I wish my mother had given me: put your cards on the table about sex. Both of you. How much, how often, how - what’s acceptable, what’s not. And that’s important. Unless I’m mistaken, Chris is a very sexy lady, which means you are a lucky boy. Am I right?”

Tim nodded.

“So enjoy yourselves. But agree about limits and try not to have many - you might be missing something special. The more on the banned list, the more problems you will have.” She smiled. “OK. Lecture over. Just enjoy. Sex is the best thing there is if you take everything it has to offer.”

“I think we will,” said Tim. “But if I’m not being inquisitive, what about you? Is anyone taking care of your needs?”

Cheryl took her son’s hand and squeezed. “It’s nice that you asked. Let’s just say I’m not going without.”

“Someone special?”

“Could be.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Never you mind.”

Occasionally over the ensuing months, Tim teased his mother about her mysterious lover without eliciting any further information.

“Do I look frustrated?” she would ask, and Tim had to admit she looked anything but. Cheryl was forty-seven and in excellent shape, full busted but with narrow hips and good legs. She wore her dark hair in tight curls and dressed to make the most of her assets without testing the edges of brazenness. Tim was looking forward to taking her to lunch, knowing that observers would never believe they were mother and son.

He was pleased to see her car parked in the drive; he had wanted the lunch to be a surprise and had taken a chance on finding her at home. Letting himself in, he called quietly so as not to alarm her. When there was no reply, he walked through to the kitchen but she was neither there nor in the garden. At the foot of the stairs he was about to call again when he heard two unmistakable sounds: the subtle burr of a vibrator and his mother moaning softly.

So this meant there was no secret lover, merely a battery-operated phallus. Tim realised he had a dilemma. If he could escape from the house and drive around for half an hour, he could return when his mother should have had time to compose herself. But if he revealed his presence by making a noise, his mother’s sad pretence that she had a mystery man would be exposed in the most hurtful way. The idea occurred that he could go back to the front door, open it clumsily and call loudly, which would act as a warning - even if, as he feared, it would forestall her approaching orgasm. Yet, even as these thoughts were tumbling through his mind, Tim was battling with another urge altogether: could he creep silently up the stairs and perhaps watch his mother masturbating? It was the moment when he should have walked away. But he didn’t.

Removing his shoes, Tim progressed as swiftly as he dared towards the sounds that are only made by a woman in heat. On the landing, he saw that he was lucky: his mother’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. He peered in - and was astonished by what he saw.

His mother lay on her back on the bed, legs spread wide. She certainly had a buzzing vibrator half buried inside her, but it was being inserted by a blonde woman wearing only a pair of white knickers. The blonde was kneeling and leaning forward to supplement the vibrator’s effect with her tongue. Cheryl, eyes closed, ws kneading her breasts, rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger. Involuntarily, Tim’s hand went to his crotch where his cock was rigid, straining against his clothing. The need for relief was overwhelming but as he tried to open the zip, he partially lost balance, put out a hand and pushed open the door.

The blonde woman looked up, gave a stifled scream and reached for a blouse which she held across her breasts as though she could hide the whole scene. Cheryl opened her eyes and sat up. The vibrator slipped from her cunt and lay buzzing on the bed. For some seconds all three, the two women on the bed, Tim in the doorway, were motionless and silent.

By far the calmest was Cheryl. Almost as though she were unsurprised, she reached for the vibrator and turned it off. Then she said, “Tim, you should have phoned, but it’s too late now. So meet the person who has been making me very happy and you very curious. This is Moira.” She gestured towards the doorway. “And, Moira, the young man standing there trying to pretend he hasn’t got a hard-on, is my son, Tim.”

Neither Moira nor Tim spoke, the blonde still covering her tits with the blouse, Tim still attempting to conceal his erection.

“Look.” said Cheryl. “There’s no point in standing there, the two of you. We can’t put the genie back in the bottle, so what are we going to do? Get dressed and pretend it didn’t happen, and never be able to look at each other again without remembering?”

Again there was no response, either from her son or her lover.

“All right, then let me suggest the alternative. We are three grown-up people. We all like sex - obviously Moira and I do, and Tim, you don’t spend your time with Chris discussing politics. So this is where we are, and we could go on from here. It’s what I would like to do.” She looked from one to the other. “Apart from anything else, I was about to come and right now I’m feeling very up in the air.”

For the first time, Moira found her voice, the alarm melted from her eyes and she gave a nervous smile. “Well, you’re not the only one. But do you mean we should start again where we left off while Tim watches?”

“We could, but it would be a bit of a waste of a good hard cock, wouldn’t it? When were you last fucked by a lusty twenty-three-year-old? And I suspect there are a few things am experienced woman could do to make Tim’s eyes water.” She looked at her son. “Oh, come on Tim, make up your mind - you could be turning your back on a chance you would regret for the rest of your life.”

It was as though she had read his mind. So many contradictory thoughts were assailing him, but none could gain supremacy over the basic message coming from his groin. He realised what he wanted and yet couldn’t bring himself to take the first step. That responsibility was eventually taken by his mother. Rising from the bed, she took him by the arm and led him to Moira. “Feel,” she said, placing his hand on one of Moira’s tits. “And Moira, undress him and let’s see what you can do for each other. I’ll watch for now - but don’t forget we haven’t finished.”

Moira’s breasts were small and firm, the nipples immediately responsive to his touch. He fondled them while his mother’s blonde lover, with whom he had not really exchanged a word, fumbled with buttons and buckles until he was naked. She looked down at the cock she had exposed, an upright, circumcised member plainly in need of attention. Finally, she held the young man’s eyes and asked in a soft voice, “Shall I?”

“Yes,” said Tim, “Please.”

A bridge had been crossed. No turning back now. Moira guided Tim to the bed and made him lie down next to where his mother sat, one hand moving slowly between her legs. Cheryl leaned down and kissed Tim on the cheek then sat back to watch. He could see that she was still manipulating herself but with no intensity, simply maintaining the desire without seeking to satisfy it. The erotic tension between the three was palpable. All were breathing deeply in the silence.

A car horn outside seemed to spur Moira to action. Taking Tim’s dick in both hands, she began a series of long, subtle strokes, the contact light and teasing until his body began to jerk as though demanding something more substantial. It wasn’t immediately forthcoming. The blonde dipped her head and flicked the tip of her tongue on his balls, up the length of his shaft and back again. His mother was right. Chris gave him wonderful, mind-blurring blow-jobs but this was a different experience, a middle-aged woman using all her skill to take him, moment by exquisite moment, to a higher stage of excitement while always conveying the certainty that there was more and better to follow. No wonder his mother’s moans that he had heard earlier had been so prolonged and so needful. This was a woman of rare sexual talent. He tried to show his appreciation by reaching for Moira’s hanging tits and moulding them, pulling gently at the nipples. A little gasp confirmed that he had found one of his new partner’s keys to pleasure.

At last Moira put a temporary halt to the butterfly treatment. She raised her head for a moment to look at Cheryl, who smiled and nodded. She was now stroking her breast with the hand that wasn’t occupied between her thighs. Time suddenly, unexpectedly after all the tantalising, felt his cock engulfed by Moira’s mouth. She took in as much as she was able then closed her lips firmly round his cock and held the position, breathing through her nose. He thought he could feel his knob touching the back of her throat.

Soon, though, they both began to move, Moira widening her lips and withdrawing, licking with her tongue as did so, Tim pushing his member forward in a fucking motion. They caught each other’s rhythm and moved in unison, pausing from time to time to keep the tension from proving critical.

“I think I need something, too.” Cheryl quietly reminded them of other possibilities. Tim wondered what she intended, wondered whether he was prepared for all eventualities. As Moira let his cock slide from her mouth, his mother answered the unasked question.

“It’s a first time for all of us. No need to jump too many hurdles at once. If Moira would like to resume what she was doing so marvellously for me when you came in, Tim, I think you could give Moira something in return. Why don’t you take her knickers off for a start?”

He took his time, enjoying the sensual pleasure of cupping her bottom cheeks, insinuating his hand between her legs to relish the wetness of the material. Moira pushed back against him suggestively, letting him know that this, and more, was what she wanted, too. Cheryl was now sitting at the top of the bed, resting her back against a pillow. Her legs were spread, the knees slightly raised. Puffy labia glistened with moisture generated by her own fingering.

“Now, dear, if you would kindly kneel and apply your tongue where I want it most, then Tim can get behind you and fuck to his heart’s content. And yours, I hope.”

Effortlessly, they found their positions and began. Tim discovered that the generous lubrication in Moira’s cunt allowed him immediate deep penetration. This was a mature woman’s cunt but not one that had been stretched; the muscles were firm, the inner folds embraced his dick and sucked him into the warm depths. His mind focussed on the very essence of this unprecedented experience: his cock was probing the cunt of a woman he had met only minutes earlier; that woman’s tongue was lapping his mother’s clitoris, cleverly and inexorably building her to the heights of ecstasy. All other considerations - and there many - were eliminated from his thoughts. The sensations emanating from his groin had become the core of his being.

He started slowly, anxious not to jolt Moira’s body so that she couldn’t perform properly on his mother. When he saw Cheryl close her eyes, reach for her nipples and throw her head back, he felt safe to grip the blonde’s hips and make his thrusting deeper and harder. At the same time he heard his mother urging Moira on. “Yes, yes. Give it to me, dear ... Let Tim fuck you hard ... Is he doing it how you like it?” A pause then, broken only by the sounds of his mother’s gulping breaths and the slap of his balls as he pounded into Moira from behind. Then, “Yes, do it like that ... go on ... do me the way you always do ... It’s good like that ... it’s getting me there ... do it faster ...”

Cheryl’s orgasm came suddenly and noisily, sending spasms through her whole body that needed time to subside and be enjoyed. Releasing one of her breasts, she clasped a hand over the clitoris that had been so expertly titllated, as though she wanted to keep the feeling within her. Meanwhile, Tim continued pumping with a steady rhythm, Moira’s juices visible on his engorged shaft each time he withdrew. He didn’t want it to end but he knew he couldn’t retain this iron control much longer. If the woman beneath him twitched a muscle or tightened her inner thighs, he would be lost. Cheryl, now recovered from her glorious fulfilment, sensed his struggle and slid a hand underneath Moira. She looked at Tim. “Close?”

He nodded.

“Good. I’m going to get Moira off with my fingers. Stay in if you can but I want your cum. Yes?”

Another nod. Momentarily, he recalled Chris making a similar request. Calling on all his resolve, he concentrated on feeding his full length into Moira without allowing the delicious wet friction to reach the critical point.

The two women had obviously learned each other’s mechanisms well. Tim soon felt the telltale signs in Moira’s voracious cunt and with a long, deep sigh, she came. As the other woman fell forward on to her heaving breasts, Cheryl grasped her son’s cock, stroked it quickly until he said, “Now.” Her hand guided the stream of pearly warm liquid in a series of spurts across her tits.

For a while they all lay in silence, Cheryl massaging her son’s ejaculate into her breasts, the nipples still giving evidence of a continuing high state of arousal. Yet, after passing round tissues, she was again in remarkably calm control of a highly charged situation. She said, “I think the first thing to take on board is that we all enjoyed that. Didn’t we.”

There was no dissent. “Now we have to decide whether that was a one-off or whether we want more. For my part, I do. But I think you two - Tim especially - need to consider for a day or two. Not only if you want to continue, but if you do, you have to decide whether there are going to be certain limits.”

“I know what you mean,” said Moira. “But it was too good, too special. If Tim wants, I certainly do. Because that was only the beginning really, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. it was. But Tim is going to have to tell his partner, and see how she responds. And think through his own attitude. Isn’t that so?”

Tim nodded thoughtfully.

“I hope you remembered a conversation we had a while ago, Tim, and there are no secrets between you and Chris.”

“There aren’t. She’ll be back tomorrow night and I’ll tell her then.” He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected she might be excited rather than shocked. He certainly hoped so, although he realised they would have to think carefully about where they were heading.

“Don’t hurry a decision and be sure when you make it. If Chris approves, the logical consequence would be for you both to come over, wouldn’t it?”

“I think so. But you’re right - we’ll have to talk it through.”

“If you do decide, I think three women and one man would be a bit much. I think you should join us one evening when Victor is here.”

“Victor?”

“Oh Lord, yes. I’m sorry. Victor is Moira’s husband. While Moira and I have Saturday mornings to ourselves - well, until today - we like Vic to join us of an evening.” She smiled. “You’ve got a lot of talking and thinking to do, haven’t you?”