Ambridge Affairs Ch. 2

Clarrie was a little breathless, now, and she could feel her nipples pucker with excitement. This was the first time she had ever deliberately displayed herself to a man, and it was having an unexpected effect on her. She wondered if Joe was touching himself – oh, God, might he take his cock out and be playing with it as he watched her?

She waited for the rush of disgust as this thought occurred to her but, instead, to her astonishment, she felt a renewed rush of warmth between her thighs, and a flush covered her entire body. Her nipples tingled and, confused, she hurriedly wrapped the towel round herself again. A second or two later, she heard Joe's footsteps hurry away, and she realised that it must have looked to him as if she had covered up rapidly when she became aware he was watching.

Clarrie stood, trembling and indecisive, in the middle of the bathroom floor. She couldn't analyse her feelings at all. She felt guilty, now, about a number of things. About letting Joe see her like that, but also about frightening him off, even if she hadn't meant to. The idea had been to make him feel better, but he probably now felt worse, knowing that she knew he had been peeping at her.

But there was something else. She, herself, was aroused – there was no doubt of it. She was alone in the flat, wearing only a towel – well, not alone, because there was a man in the next room who had been interested in her body for years, and was probably, even now, worrying about having been found out.

Poor old sod, she thought. And poor old me, too! When did Eddie last look interested in my tits and bum?

Suddenly, without knowing quite why, or how, Clarrie found herself walking into the lounge, clad only in her towel.

"Hello, Joe," she sang out at the startled figure in the armchair, as she marched through, on shaking, trembling legs to the little open kitchenette area at the end. "Want a cup of tea?" Not waiting for his reply, she filled the kettle and put it on the gas ring. At the same time, her mind racing, she slightly loosened the towel above her breasts and turned round to face him, as if waiting for the kettle to boil.

She could not credit the excitement she was feeling. Her heart was like a triphammer. She did not dare actually think about what she had in mind – if she did, she would lose her nerve, and end up, as usual, lying on her bed, her fingers plunged between her thighs, bringing on yet another self-induced climax. The TV advert phrase – "Just do it" – hammered in her brain.

She poured two cups of tea and, lifting one in each hand, turned away from the worktop. She felt the towel slip, just a little. She knew that, if she moved, it would loosen more and could easily...

"Just do it!" Don't think – just do it... Taking a deep breath, Clarrie stepped forward, as if to head for the settee. She could feel the towel loosening its grip but she willed herself to keep holding up the cups, and to continue walking.

Then, it happened. The towel gave up the unequal struggle and, with a rush, fell to her feet. Clarrie stood stockstill, her heart thumping. There was what seemed to be an endless silence, then, in a very small voice, Clarrie said "Whoops!"

Joe sat, mouth open, staring up at his daughter-in-law, his eyes never leaving her face.

Suddenly, Clarrie felt calm and confident. She still had a good body – her breasts firm, stomach flat, hips round, but not flabby. She placed the cups carefully down on the kitchen table, then put her hands on her hips and pushed her chest out.

"Well, Joe," she said. "Do you want a look? You've been trying for long enough – what do you think?"

Now, he allowed his eyes to travel down her naked body, his expression now its normal dour self. His eyes lingered on the prolific bush of brown hair below her belly.

"Turn round," he said, and Clarrie obediently turned her back on him, jutting her bottom towards him.

It was a shock when she felt his hand clutch one of her cheeks, and she turned back, hastily, but Joe kept his hand on her buttock. He was grinning, now, as he levered himself to his feet. "Ah," he said. "You're all right, our Clarrie. All right if I give your tit a squeeze?"

Without waiting for permission, he raised a hand and took hold of her left breast, bouncing it up and down in the palm of his hand. He nodded in approval, then rolled her nipple between his finger and thumb.

Clarrie's calmness and confidence had fled. She realised now – too late – that she had assumed Joe would be grateful for just a sight of her unclothed body. Letting him feel her up hadn't been on Clarrie's agenda. It had been a shock when he had put his hand on her bottom, but he had just taken control from then on and now his fondling of her breast was sending irresistible signals down between her legs.

Then she felt his hand move from her bottom. It grasped her own hand and, without hesitation, pressed it against the front of his trousers. Clarrie gasped as her fingers touched a very large, hard object, and she looked down, in shock, to see the bulge in Joe's trousers reaching up, almost, to his waist.

Old memories re-surfaced...

Then Joe's hand released hers and grabbed her between the legs. His middle finger unerringly found the damp lips of her vagina, and slid inside, and Clarrie gasped.

"Ah, you're ready then, girl," he said, with satisfaction. "I've got something for you – all you got to do is take it out, and you can have it!"

"No, Joe," Clarrie whispered, at last. "I – I didn't mean for this to happen. I - I just thought you'd like a look - at me, after all this time..."

"And I did," said Joe, calmly. "And very nice it is, too. You're a very fine woman, Clarrie. Your tits are lovely and firm – just like my Susan's were, though she weren't as big as you in that area."

"And I like a woman with a hairy snatch – can't be doin' with all that new-fangled shaving business," he went on, his finger sliding expertly in and out of Clarrie's vagina as his thumb teased her erecting clitoris.

"And now," he announced, "I'm going to give you a really good fucking. I reckon as you could do with one, and I've never had no complaints."

And he did.

He'd had to take his own cock out, in the end, but Clarrie hadn't complained when he pushed her back against the dining-table and lifted her on to it, her legs dangling over the edge, then slid his massive cock up her slippery, ready cunt. She came before he did, screaming unrestrainedly as his hands squeezed her breasts brutally and his prick rodded into her repeatedly.

They never went to bed together, but, since that first time, Joe had screwed her in every other place imaginable in that little flat – including her hanging out of the living-room window while Joe rogered her from behind. Mercifully, he had allowed her to keep a t-shirt on so that she didn't have to show her bare breasts to anyone who happened to be looking.

But, this time, Joe retreated to a kitchen chair and sat down, his thick, gnarled cock jutting up at Clarrie. She sank down on it gratefully and Joe clasped her tits as his cock embedded itself in her. In that position, his capacity to thrust in and out of her was limited – which Clarrie enjoyed, as she had got to the stage when her cunt felt empty every second Joe's cock wasn't in it.

Joe always waited until his daughter-in-law had climaxed before releasing himself to ejaculate inside her, and today was no exception. Clarrie had orgasmed violently on his lap, her full breasts shaking against his rough shirt, Joe's greased finger sliding into her anus, then, as she sank down on him, fulfilled, had felt him shoot up inside her...

His cum was still dribbling down into her panties as she pushed open the door of The Bull, and she smiled with remembered pleasure, like the cat that got the cream.

Who would have thought it, she mused – Alf's size, and Eddie's staying-power – now she knew where they came from...