A Domestic Incident

The panties had been subject to some adjustment since they left the factory and were now somewhat diminished in size. Carol had cut them down so that at the front they were barely covering her mound and at the rear they were now showing the top of the cleft of her rather nice bottom. They had been narrowed at the sides to display her butt and the lining had been removed.

I had some fairly standard trunks, of the style you'd now call 'budgie smugglers'. In those days all the men wore them so they were unremarkable, only granddads wore shorts on the beach.

"Can you see my VL?" Carol didn't want to miss an opportunity.

I had a squint, it was there but it wasn't conspicuous. She promptly tucked some of the material between her labia to emphasise her contours and her crease was now perfectly plain to see for anyone who cared to look. Which they could, especially as she sat watching the cricket with her legs wide apart.

"Have you got a camera?" She leaned back on one arm, the other raised over her head in the classic tit-lift position.

I did, but not with me.

"I've brought my Polaroid, let's take a couple of pictures." She dug deep into the bottom of her bag, pulled out her camera and gave it to me. I took a snap of her with her head thrown back and after the machine whirred and spat it out, we watched the photo develop from a plain white card to a colour picture by the magic of the technology of the era.

"Take one of my VL, close in so you get all the detail." She made sure that she was showing herself to best effect. "It's for your wallet, so you've always got one of me with you."

Carol waited while I fitted it into my wallet. Then she held the camera down low. "Pull your bathers to the side, let me take a photo of your best bit." As I did she pressed the button, "I'll keep this in my purse, I'll be able to look at your cock any time I feel bored."

I looked at the photo; it didn't look like the sort of thing I'd display on the mantelpiece.

* * *

I was due what normal workers might call a 'weekend', but with me working shifts this was in the middle of the week. Either way it meant that I didn't have to go in to work for a couple of days so I was Carol's plaything for that period. I didn't even get out of bed at all the next day except to use the bathroom. Carol went downstairs to raid the fridge now and then, giving me a few precious moments to doze. Sometimes she slipped on a robe to do so, particularly in the daylight but mostly she didn't even bother.

When she returned to the bedroom she'd just sit facing me, look me straight in the eyes and start stroking herself. I was young enough in those days to be just about everlasting, so it was never long before we were at it again but even if my hard-on was most definitely a soft-on, there was always my tongue to continue the effort.

She was inventive, I'll give her that. One day she surprised me by tickling my bum. Once I was over the shock she told me that was what she wanted. So we watched television with her lying on the sofa with her ass in the air and my finger circling her anus. She could flex it open for me to enter, then grip firmly to prevent me from withdrawing. She liked to have a finger far enough inside her bottom whilst she fucked, far enough for me to feel myself between her front and rear passages. It was incredible and she loved it.

Many weeks passed and we settled into an exhausting routine. My mates at work noticed that I was looking gaunt and listless, Jo made regular comments about me being drained dry and she wasn't far wrong. It was inevitable that it would come to an end, and it came to a crunch one day when Carol had been particularly demanding. The time was 5.30 in the morning and my watch had an alarm function. There was no ignoring the beeping, dawn was breaking to confirm the need to rise.

I pressed every button in turn before I found the one that silenced it, but now Carol was awake as well. Squatting on my face awake. "Leave it, stay here. I need some cunt-action." She was insatiable. I gave her a few minutes of tongue but as time progressed into the panic zone, I eased her off.

She always had a good pout when I went to work, but this time she had an expression like last week, "Call in sick. I'll do it for you, what's the number?"

That was not going to happen, so eventually I grabbed my clothes and ran for the door. She tried to block my way so after a few pathetic attempts to pass around her, I pulled her to one side and bolted.

I was down the stairs and at the front door in a couple of bounds, however she was following close behind. The bottom step was just a step too far and I felt a twinge from an ankle as I yanked the door. I was in the street before she had a chance to stop me. I only had one leg in my trousers as I found my car keys but I didn't care, no-one knew me around there.

I thought I had a clear advantage at this point as Carol was totally naked and surely would not follow me into the street in front of her neighbours. I was mistaken.

I opened my car door and jumped in, throwing the rest of my clothes onto the passenger seat. Carol was immediately upon me, fighting to sit on my lap. I tried to wrestle her out, but it was difficult to get a grip on bare skin with her admittedly lovely breasts mashed in my face.

They were firm and willing breasts but I really needed to get to work. I managed to start the engine, braced myself to ignore the pain from my ankle, heaved her out and shoved it into gear. Finally I managed to get the car lurching along the street and saw her in the mirror running behind me in a hopeless attempt to catch up. In the half-light the last things I saw were two dark nipples bouncing about in the gloom.

* * *

Jo thought it was hysterical. "She's a nutter!" She was crying with laughter into her mug of tea as I recounted the morning's experience, "She's the horniest little slapper I ever heard of!"

There had been two reports that morning of a naked woman running around the streets but I had dodged those calls and by the time I surfaced they had both been finalised as 'area search made, negative result'. Easily written off and closed, no further enquiries to make.

I made sure that we patrolled well away from that estate for the rest of the shift and it passed relatively quietly, even my ankle managed to heal. But when it was time to finish, I left the station and nearly died with shock.

Carol was standing on the opposite side of the street near to my parked car, waiting for me.

I did an immediate U-turn and went back inside the nick. Luckily Jo was still there, in disbelief. "You mean your pet nympho is waiting for you in the street begging for it? What the fuck have you been doing with that tongue?"

"Only what she asked."

She had a glint in her eye, "Do you love her?"

"I dunno, she gets my attention for sure."

"Is it like counting the stars in the sky?"

That sounded romantic. "You mean like an infinite amount of love?"

"No, like a waste of fucking time." Jo sighed, "I have a solution for you. Look her straight in the eye and rub your face with half an orange, all over. Ears, nose, lips, everywhere. Plenty of juice running down your cheeks, get some pips in your hair."

"How does that work?" I was puzzled.

"Well, it'd put me off, for sure. You'd never see me again."

She burst out laughing again as I looked at her with my best puppy-eyed pleading expression. "Can you help me get out of here? Without her seeing?"

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Give me a ride. Can you drive your car into the custody unit and I'll get inside, out of sight. I'll hide until we're clear. Can you get me home?"

"OK, but you'll owe me."

So I made my way through the corridors to the rear car park and a minute later the gate slid open for Jo to reverse in behind the prisoner transport van. Making sure the coast was clear, I climbed in and lay on the back seat. That wasn't quite good enough so I crawled down onto the floor. I felt like I couldn't be seen by anyone in that position so soon we were away from the station and I was able to sit up.

I directed Jo to where my lodgings were. It was in an older, traditional part of town, where my widow landlady and I shared the facilities. The old lady did the cooking and sometimes I helped out with minor jobs around the place.

It was common at that time for single officers to stay in one of a small number of such houses, where the owners were seen as 'respectable'. When an officer moved out (usually to get married), their place would swiftly be taken by another youngster. Every town had one or two properties where every officer seemed to have lived at some point as a rite of passage. Sometimes they were known as 'Heartbreak Hotel' due to their regular occupancy following a marriage breakup.

My landlady must have had her hearing turned up to bionic setting. As I approached she was waiting by the door with her arms folded across her massive bosom and thin lips pressed together.

"You're back." Stating the obvious with no obvious reply to give. "I thought you might have done a runner, owing the rent. I was about to go down the station looking for you."

"No Mrs. Williams-Lyons, I have your rent right here." I knew she depended on the small amount of money that I contributed every week. I counted out some notes and handed it over.

"Have you found a girlfriend? It's been really quiet without you. I like having a bit of company."

"Sort of, anyway I'm back now." I waved goodbye to Jo and shut the door.

Mrs. Williams-Lyons was friendlier than usual and kept up small-talk through supper. She only quietened down and gave my ears a rest when she settled down later to watch her soaps on the TV.

The next day Jo asked me how it had gone. "She's okay, a bit of a dragon but I can talk her round. I think she fancies me.

"Ha! She's so dried up you can hear her squeaking when she walks. Did you see the way she folds her arms? She has two positions, she either rests her arms on top of her baps or puts them underneath and lifts them up in the air. Ready, steady, fire." Jo mimed lifting her boobs up with her forearms and aiming them at an imaginary target.

Now that she'd mentioned it, it was right. My landlady did have habit of lifting her impressively large melons up with her folded arms. "She's not so bad. She had a dog. Cute thing, it died tragically. Run over."

"Oh, that's sad. How long ago was that?"

"About two years. It had cancer."

"I thought you meant it was run over."

"No, that was its name. Runover."

"Oh, dear God, that's so lame. Are you familiar with the phrase, 'You're an asshole?'"

* * *

The rest of the shift gathered around like the mates they were and over the next couple of weeks there was always someone there to bring me to work and take me home afterwards lying down in the rear of various cars. Carol was spotted several times hanging around but she never succeeded in working out where I lived or how I was coming and going.

One night not long after, I was home in my lodgings taking a shower. Mrs. Williams-Lyons had vacated the bathroom already so I could relax. It wasn't a massively big house and there was only the one bathroom so the code was, if the door was ajar it was available. If it was closed the room was occupied.

I had a head full of shampoo and was soaping away in a relaxed manner, when something made me glance to the door. It was wide open and Mrs. Williams-Lyons was standing, watching. Through the steamy atmosphere I could see her pink candlewick dressing gown and dyed blonde hair. I automatically stopped my ablutions and clutched my hands in front of me.

She spoke, flustered, "I'm sorry, I thought it was empty. I left my hairbrush behind." She stooped and grabbed something from the side of the sink before turning to leave the room.

With the door now securely shut, I finished my shower and with my towel wrapped around my waist made my way back to my room. I was intercepted en route by Mrs. Williams-Lyons who was waiting in the doorway to her own bedroom. "I'm terribly sorry about that, I hope you didn't mind the intrusion too much. I didn't realise you were in there, I'd just finished in there myself and I thought the door had slammed shut behind me."

I wasn't convinced, she must have been able to hear the water running.

"I was completely taken in by the sight of you washing your hair, you reminded me of someone I used to know. He left his slippers under my bed a few times, I can tell you."

That was a euphemism I hadn't come across before. 'Left his slippers under my bed'? Was she a goer back in the day?

Then she moved and her dressing gown opened slightly. It wasn't securely fastened and she didn't seem to notice that I could see a glimpse of pale belly. "It was a beautiful sight, seeing you rub soap all over yourself. Such a handsome strong body, you'll have all the young ladies after you."

"I don't know about that, if there are many of them, they're hiding it well."

"You know, that's the funny thing with girls. They eye up the boys and talk with each other but they never let on to the guys who they fancy."

I grinned, "So how am I supposed to know then?"

"That's the game, isn't it. Trying to guess, trying to find the one who would."

I turned around to my door, "I hope that's true Mrs. Williams-Lyons. Good night."

With that, I felt my towel start to slip as the end that I'd tucked in became dislodged. I dropped my hand to catch it, but I was left holding the corner as it fell free. Suddenly Mrs. Williams-Lyons was there, holding the rest of it. "Look at you, showing what you've got." Her hand was close to my stomach and she brushed my skin. "Shall I show you how to tuck a towel in? It's something that boys never seem to learn."

Without pausing for an answer, she pulled the towel away and held it straight, shaking the folds out. I was left standing exposed to her gazed as she gave it a final flap and carefully wrapped it back around me. She folded the end back on itself, then with a roll-over at the top plus some magical touch it was tucked in much more securely than previously. "There, that's better. See?"

I looked down, it did appear much better that way. What I noticed though, was that the sudden movements had released her own gown and it was now hanging wide open so I could see bare cleavage all the way down from her throat to her white panties that were stretched tightly over the lower part of her somewhat large stomach. The elastic was cutting into the skin, just below the dimple of her belly-button.

She didn't seem to notice but continued messing with my towel. "Look, can you see how it works?" She straightened the flap of material, causing her hand to press against my body underneath. "Oh my, that will never hang straight with you like that."

Mrs. Williams-Lyons was now examining the way that my growing erection was pushing the towel out. "So young, so virile, so unaware of the effect that you have on the ladies." Her hand was now rubbing against my groin, with predictable results. Soon the towel had fallen to the side and I was poking straight out. "Absolutely beautiful, just as I said." I felt her warm hand move underneath and cup my balls, taking their weight and massaging them gently.

This was weird. Her hand was definitely feeling me up. And she being a widow woman, older than my mother. "I love the feel of a man when he's just come from the shower, So warm, smooth and soft, yet firm. It's been such a long time, will you put your slippers under my bed tonight? I won't tell your girlfriend. Oh, and you'll have to call me Suzanne." She moved her hand to grasp my cock and was now straight-up masturbating me.

"That's if you can bring yourself to make an old woman happy." She kept her hand on me and led me to her room. "You're not very quick on the uptake I have to say."

"What do you mean Mrs. Williams-Lyons?"

"I've scrubbed the floor so many times I've lost count when you came in from work, kneeling down and wiggling my bottom at you. Sometimes a lady just needs to be mounted. And I told you, it's Suzanne."

I paused to run that comment through my mind. She did seem to be very keen on that floor, but I'd never imagined that it had been an invitation.

The belt on her gown finally fell away completely as she perched on the edge of her bed and one side of the garment opened up, allowing the side of a massive breast to come into view.

"Come here, lie down and let me have a good look at you." She sat upright as I sat down, reaching out to stroke my cock gently. An immense areola emerged, staring back at me as my towel was casually tossed onto the floor and I sank into the cloud of quilt, my knob pointing to the ceiling. A warm mouth soon enveloped me and then I could see the back of her head bobbing.

I'm not sure where she had misspent her youth, but she had learned to give a good blow-job along the way. She carried on until my head went back and I started breathing heavily. Them, unexpectedly she stopped, lay down and pulled me over.

Her robe was now on the floor next to my towel and she was lying alongside me, pale boobs sagging symmetrically on either side. Their unsupported weight indicated a fullness that must have attracted the lads during her younger days. The paunch of her stomach now lay flat, the result of all those cream scones disguised by gravity.

She shrugged her panties down to release her gut and a thinning patch of silver-grey hair became visible, covering the area above her pussy but allowing her labia to be visible, "One of the things they never warned you about getting old. Not only does the hair on your head turn grey and fall out, so does the rest." She ran her fingers through the thatch, ruffling it out from where her knickers had flattened it.

Her thighs were invitingly wide apart and as I knelt between her knees she guided my head down to her groin. Her wisps of hair were gentle against my nose, her clitoris made an appearance eager for attention and I nudged it with my nose, breathing gentle warm air over it.

I waited several seconds to tease her, then when her thighs were spread to the fullest extent and her purple-pigmented labia were beckoning, I felt my face being pulled into the moist warmth. She held my head firmly so that I could lick exactly what she wanted licking. Around her clit, then between the lips and finally deep inside.

She was different to Carol. Whilst Carol took an active role, directing operations as required, determined to satisfy and be satisfied in the shortest possible time, rinse and repeat, Suzanne Williams-Lyons simply absorbed pleasure. She enjoyed the attention audibly, positioning herself so that my ministrations were exactly right for her body. Then when everything was perfect she started making an appreciative 'um, um, um' in time to the movement.

This was no race to the finish. It was an endless state of ecstasy, luxuriating in eroticism and revelling in the joy of sensuality. She had the scent of her soaps and lotions, recently applied.

She liked to have her breasts stroked. Those bulky pillows of goose-down, soft and warm were just ready for a face to be nestled between them. She showed me how to smooth the skin with a delicate touch, slowly rising up from the ribs over the flesh that was normally nestled within her bra, around the nipple until it stood to attention, then unhurriedly but steadily back down. Then repeat with the tiniest of scratch from a fingernail.

Her thighs were tempting, her flesh was willing and her spirit was free. There was a slow but relentless increase to her rhythm. Both amplitude and wavelength as my old physics teacher would have described it. Her legs gripped tighter and tighter against my head, squeezing my ears. The 'umming' sound increased in volume until she climaxed. She tensed and held me rigidly, nose pressing into her body. I was barely able to breathe through my mouth until she slowly released me.