As before, during our holiday in England we spent some days staying with our good friend Eleanor. She hadn’t changed one bit. Still single. Still the mother figure to all the lads in the office. Still not getting any.
She had, however, got rid of
the bed that gave us so much grief last time. The replacement, bought only a few weeks ago, was high, supremely comfortable and, above all, silent. Once again she generously offered us the use of it while she slept in the spare room.
We'd been on one of our regular rituals when we visit England, the shopping trip to Southampton, and true to form I left the girls clothes-shopping while I went off on my own. True enough there were some 'boring' bits and pieces I needed to get but my first port of call was the local Ann Summers shop. I had plenty of time to get back to the car park and stash my spoils in the car before meeting the girls again by The Bargate. The reason for this subterfuge? Eleanor is a lovely person and a great friend but I knew that her first words on us meeting up would inevitably be:
"Wot yer bought then? Lets have a look" before diving in and having a rummage through the shopping and the contents of that particular carrier bag were not something I was keen to share with her. Or with Daughter for that matter.
Heather shot me a glance as I met up with them again.
"You got the leg-spreaders then?" she muttered under her breath. I gave an almost imperceptible conspiratorial nod and she grinned. We'd been talking about getting some only a few days previously. But we'd have to wait until after the holiday before we would be able to use them, or the rabbit she didn't yet know about.
We staggered back laden with things that are so much cheaper in UK than over here: Wallpaper for Daughter, Nintendo Wii for son, stacks of the new Harry Potter for English-speaking friends and so that the kids could boast of having read it before term starts and before it even comes out over here in the local language.
Despite the persistent drizzle it was still hot at bedtime and I was lying naked on the pristine bed when Heather came in from the bathroom. As she was undressing she had a 'middle-age moment' and threw herself down on the bed beside me, spreadeagled to dissipate the heat, tiny pearls of sweat giving her skin a sheen. She's often like this just before she gets into bed and, maybe this is just my imagination, just before sex although never during. Funny things, hormones. There's nothing to do about it, no touching save the lightest of fingertip touches is permissible. We just have to wait patiently until the moment passes. I joke with her that the only way to stop her hot flushes is to keep her fucked 24/7.
I had mentioned jokingly the previous night about 'christening' Eleanor's new bed for her but last night we'd been very tired and very late turning in. Now, as the heat passed from her body and her nipples started to stiffen to my touch Heather silently leaned over to me and gently enveloped my cock in her lips. I cradled her head in one hand, stroking her face, while the other hand traced its way down the curve of her back and up into the moistening cleft between her legs, playing with her labia to plump them up and part them, dipping my fingertips briefly into the source of that fragrant moisture before seeking out her clit. All too soon to my way of thinking she sat up again, but to my delight it was only to take a mouthful water from the glass on the bedside table before taking my cock in her mouth again. A mouth now full of ice cold water. I don't know where she's learned this trick and I don't think I want to know. I haven't seen it described anywhere but, if you are a giver of blowjobs then consider trying this variation. It will drive him wild. If you are a receiver then ask your giver nicely, buy her flowers, renounce your religion if you have to. You won't regret it.
She rolled off me and spread out on the bed, inviting a classic '69' and she took me deep as I savoured the taste of her, nudging her clit onto my tongue with my thumb, easing a couple of fingers into her cunt, one into her arse and leaving the little finger to lie in the crack, giving her something to contract her bum cheeks onto.
Her whole body stiffened. I could feel, rather than hear, her muffled shouting through a throatful of my cock. I had more and more difficulty keeping my tongue on the spot, and in moving my hand as she clamped her legs together hard. I rolled off her, had her go over on all fours and knelt up beside her. She loves this position and it can be guaranteed to make her come, even when all else fails. A thumb, pushed up inside her cunt and brushing that velvety little patch on the front wall. Fingers curling round her stiff little clit and clamping hard down onto the thumb causing the myriad of nerve endings in the intervening tissues to explode. The tip of my expectant cock conveniently at the same height as her nipple, brushing against it with every thrust of the hand. And at last, when her childlike cries told me there was no going back I leaned right over her, clasping her buttocks to my chest, and pushed a well-wetted finger from the other hand deep into her arse.
Barely giving her time to draw breath I was behind her, ramming my needy cock none too gently into her, first kneeling up behind her, then with one foot on the bed beside her to get closer to her, deeper into her, then squatting up behind her, clawing at her shoulders and driving my cock deep into her with my balls slapping her vulva. Rutting her like some beast of the field.
And that deep soft bed took it all without making a sound. Heather contracted with all her might one last time as I came and I had to imprison my latent shout of release behind gritted teeth. She almost squeezed me out of her and I had to haul on her shoulders to keep myself and the bounteous product of a week of enforced celibacy where they belonged for the time being. Deep up inside her.
I collapsed over her, mopping my sweat-soaked fringe of hair over her protruding shoulderblades. "Oh fuck" I thought. "We haven't got any tissues in here". The thought of being the first to fuck on this bed was a hell of a turn on, but you've got to draw the line somewhere and we didn't want to christen it for all time in our copious body fluids.
Heather, the mind-reader, stretched a hand out towards the bedside table and produced a fistful of toilet paper. Cunning little minx, she had sneaked that in without me seeing. After all, we can't have me thinking that she too was anticipating sex that night. That would make her appear just too needy!
The promised rain arrived a day late. As I looked out of the window first thing this morning the whole town was shrouded in fine drizzle. As a result, the sports day at Son’s college has been cancelled.
