Betsy & the McBrides Ch. 03

"In other words, he is everything every Kennedy, young or old, aspires to replicate."

"Exactly," Matilda enunciated.

"Well, dearest Matilda, I must go," said Betsy. "Thank you for the great lunch and the marvelous hospitality but life must go on. I have a business appointment at 3:30."

"Bye, Betsy, contact me if you need anything," Matilda said with a grin. "And let me know how you progress with Casey. Frankly I think with him you're going up the creek without a paddle."

SEVEN

After her business meeting at the offices of The Sentinel, Betsy went into the in-house library and looked up the file of Casey Kennedy, the youngest of the three children of Reginald and Florence Kennedy, known to family and friends as Reggie and Flo.

There were several articles about Casey's romance and marriage to Kelly Coltrane, college beauty queen who went on to become an international model based in Paris. Then the lines appeared on her face and it was all over.

Betsy read and got a clear understanding in her own words of events.

Kelly came home to Milton Falls to lick her wounds, and the next afternoon accepted an invitation to paddle up river beyond the rapids with Casey, her former handsome blond college beau.

They kitted up and downplayed the somewhat ambiguous storm warning that suggested the sleet showers would bypass the region. Anyway, they were warmly clad and well provisioned.

The first storm of the season struck, with sleet showers turning into quite heavy snow showers and Kelly and Casey took refuge in a cabin. There was little to do inside the basic shelter than to sleep and find comfort in each other's arms, so they ended up fucking themselves into exhaustion.

Five hours later they paddled back into the Milton Falls marina. Kelly returned her engagement ring to Harry Kingston and Casey farewelled Mary-Lou Jessup. A month later Kelly and Casey were married.

There were pictured galore in the newspaper file, called a Morgue File (a database for compiling a future obituary or perhaps a backgrounder should the person receive an award or become distinguished in some other arena).

Betsy studied the file and remained apprehensive. In the cab Mike had said that Casey and Kelly were unhappy, their scrapping now visible in the public arena, and it was rumored that Kelly had taken up again with her ex-fiancé, Harry Kingston.

Looking at a photo of the couple with their two young blonde daughters, Betsy couldn't envisage Casey taking up with herself.

Mike had asked did she wish to arrange a meeting with Casey, and Betsy said yes, knowing it was the right thing to do if they wished to achieve objectives.

Betsy was pushing a trolley through the wine department of the supermarket when a person, head down and moving fast, gave the advancing trolley of another shopper a glancing blow; that shopper's trolley ran into Betsy's trolley with such force she was knocked to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry – got bumped by a reckless driver," said the shopper, assisting Betsy to her feet.

Although shaken, she recognized the shopper as Casey Kennedy; this was no accident.

"Are you all right?" Casey asked, showing uncharacteristic Kenney concern.

"I'm shaken, twisted my ankle I think."

"Good god, you're Betsy Milton-Stewart, great-great-great-great-granddaughter of the founder of our town. I've violated a living legend!"

"I'd think I'd know if I'd been violated, in fact that impact would rate fairly low on the Saturday night ratings for seductions," said Betsy, taking her cue although thinking that sounded ridiculous. "Nor does my ancestry entitle me to be called a living legend."

"Come on, I'll help you over to this seat and then we can discuss evacuation options."

Betsy sighed, placing an arm over her forehead.

"I feel a little faint. Do you mind undoing a couple of buttons of my shirt and undoing my constraining bra – it's front fastened?"

"Er, well, if you insist."

"I don't insist but I feel I'm going to faint."

"Right, I'm on the job, Mrs Milton-Stewart. I used to be rather adept at this when I was a young buck.

"Oh my, what beautiful orbs you have, not like…um..."

"Kelly's?"

"Yes, you know my wife?"

"No, I know of her. Females who have those big juicy tits when they young inevitably have problems as they grow older, especially from having children."

"Quite, Kelly is talking about getting breast reductions."

"That's bothersome. It would be best to have them the optimum size from the outset. You can touch mine if you wish. Don't be bashful."

"Um, er, no thank you. A very kind offer, thank you."

"Perhaps some other time?"

"Really?"

"Only if you wish. I'm usually walking at the top of the falls on fine Thursday evenings. Perhaps we could run into each other – you could even bring Kelly if you wish."

"I'll keep that in mind. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes thanks."

Betsy studied his face: sensitively shaped and boned with a scar across his right cheek. His lips were moist and very kissable and his long black eyelashes were adorable below his blond-black mix of eyebrows.

Interestingly his smile ranged from small boy to manly – Betsy had never seen this trait so pronounced in a adult male before. Physically he was only about the same size as Betsy, but looked very wiry.

"Hand me your phone please."

Casey handed it across and watched Betsy punch in a name – Bra-Front – and then her phone number.

Casey looked at it and grinned.

"You know I'll never phone you."

"I know, but at times we should try something naughty. Please do up my bra, I'm much better."

"Someone will see me."

"That didn't seem to worry you when you were undoing it. You men are all the same: Unbutton, bang and thank you ma'am, I'm off."

Coloring, Casey began fastening the clasps: "I'd never do that."

"We, we'll have to wait and see, won't we."

Casey colored very much darker.

"You're rather upfront, aren't you? Do you really rate your Saturday night dates?"

"That was years ago, now that I'm a widow no one wants to date me."

"There're mad, they…"

"Please excuse me but I must take this aching body home and place it into a hot bath with fragrant crystals and slowly massage bath oil into where it is bruised. Perhaps I should invite you to phone me tomorrow to enquire about my bruises?"

"I really don't…"

"If you are interested in my body you will phone me. Goodbye, Mr er Kennedy."

Casey Kennedy did not phone Betsy the next day, but Matilda phoned inviting Betsy to go to a movie with her, saying she could not wait until the Sunday boat trip before seeing her again.

They had a lovely evening and when Matilda dropped Betsy off she was invited in for a night cap.

Matilda was leaning back on the sofa when Betsy went to the CD player and bent over to select a cool jazz disk, taking some time to do it. At one stage she turned round and confirmed that Matilda was watching her steadily.

Betsy ran her hands down the backs of her legs: "I love these seamed stockings."

The music began to play and Betsy stood facing Matilda swaying in time with the music. She reached up and undid the top clasps of her black dress; it dropped to the floor and she stepped out of it.

Betsy walked deliberately at Matilda who finally stirred and held out her arms. The younger woman jumped forward excitedly and fell into those arms which closed around her; small kisses rained on to her bared shoulders and neck.

"Let me at your breasts and you finger me, please darling," urged Betsy, confident such a sweet invitation would not be refused.

They kissed.

Gradually Betsy became aware of the rising passion within Matilda. Why was she so slow from a cold start? Shyness was unlikely as Matilda had originally shown an interest that scarcely could be called modest. It then occurred to Betsy that it was a kind of shyness indicating that Matilda was a little apprehensive at being with a much younger woman.

Betsy knew how to fix that.

She slithered down, raised Matilda's dress and buried her head under it, hooking a finger under the edge of the panties, releasing a much stronger smell of arousal – so it was there! The odor increased Betsy's own breathing rate as her tongue found a centre of neatly clipped hair.

Gently she worked a finger to open the slit and heard a loud gasp from Matilda as this was accomplished. Betsy's tongue followed her finger and Matilda's hands thumped on to the side of Betsy's head, almost painfully, and held on tightly.

Betsy went to work.

Initially she used short probing licks and found there was quite a lot of cuntal real estate: Matilda was not small!

Saliva and a contribution of juice from the host soon added a slopping sound to Betsy's strengthening nasal breathing, providing the appropriate background of simulating sound.

Matilda gave a single hip thrust as the marauding tongue finally slipped into the hood to connect with a sturdy button.

Ceasing what she was doing, Betsy pulled Matilda to her feet and before her bewildered friend could protest said: "Come on, let's get rid of our clothes – they're an unwelcome hindrance."

As it was early autumn, still warm, and they had gone out informally to a movie, Matilda was not wearing panty hose or stockings. As Betsy had already shed her dress, fancy stockins and slip-on shoes, she only had to remove her bra and panties. She then lay back on the far end of the wide white leather sofa and watched.

When Matilda unclipped her bra and dropped it Betsy felt a surge of blood rush as she saw the heavy hangers swing free. Until the possibility of some sort of sexual mischief between the two of them had emerged, Betsy could not recall ever being so consumed with interest in another woman's breasts. This was unreal; it was exciting.

Matilda leaned forward to pull down her panties and step out one side of them, a movement that engulfed close-watching Betsy in a further rush of blood. The sight of swinging breasts, rounded belly and dark close-cropped bush combined with the act of completely disrobing was erotic to the extreme. Betsy had watched this ultimate in eroticism while dipping two fingers into her own cunt and bringing them back into her mouth; she was so aroused that she raked them with her teeth, almost ripping off her rings, rather than gently sucking them.

The whole movement involving panty removal lasted no longer than six or seven seconds but it would last long in the mind of Betsy. While the sight of a male bringing a fully-primed dick out of his underpants was a sight for hot eyes, it would be totally eclipsed by the titillating sexuality of what she'd just witnessed.

Little wonder the Great Masters had been so fascinated by the undressing women in their lives that they had painted them so lovingly, so divinely. Betsy thought that in a surge of romanticism that completely ignored the fact that some of the Great Masters had also painted their women performing very basic elements of daily toiletry., but she was in no mind to debate with herself a matter of rationality.

Betsy got to her feet.

"Get yourself comfortable on your back, sweetheart, with one leg over the back of the sofa and the other along the back of it."

Matilda appealed with her eyes, saying, "This feels lovely and comfortable but make me cum, I was so close before. Don't leave me a frustrated wreck; I'm not big at releasing but I know when it happens."

"Yes, yes," soothed Betsy, feeling her own excitement building. The sinfulness of the situation appealed to her enormously. Recently she had been on the sofa in this same position when Kenny had tongued her into ecstasy; now she was going to simulate Kenny and doing exactly the same thing to his mother.

"Wild!" chortled Betsy.

"What's that dear?"

But Betsy was oblivious to the question as her head had dropped between the solid thighs; she inhaled the aroma and, spreading the labia with her fingers, she danced her tongue along the very pink flesh to get Matilda re-stimulated.

The licking around the button produced several tiny jerks from the hips, signaling that Matilda was very stimulated.

Taking a deep breath, Betsy sunk her tongue into Matilda's cunt (Betsy did not think of it as a vagina at moments like this) and flicked and lapped her tongue into one of its greatest adventures to date.

With the heat building up between them – Betsy realizing it wouldn't take much to get herself away – Matilda's heavier panting turned into moans, indicating that her time was nigh. By this time Betsy had two fingers in beside her hard-working tongue; although she was tiring her heart soared as the thought of the pleasure she must be giving her lover.

Betsy slipped her fingers out and inserted her middle finger gently into Matilda's asshole. The reaction was immediate, the timing perfect.

Matilda bucked and screamed. Betsy was still licking when a gush of liquid flowed into her mouth. It certainly wasn't urine; Matilda had accomplished a very impressive ejaculation.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" came the finale from Matilda like a death rattle.

Betsy pulled away and glimpsed the astonishing sight of Matilda, very red-faced and slack-jawed with her eyes open but rolled into their sockets. It could be considered a very unflattering look, but Betsy's heart sang to her; she saw it as the beautiful sight of a woman caught in her absolute moment of post-coital bliss.

PART 4 to Come.