Craft Classes

I so look forward to my Friday nights. After a week of busy office work, there's nothing better than arriving home, grabbing a bite to eat with hubby, freshening up and then heading out to meet my friends at the woman's social craft night. This had become part of my regular Friday ritual. My husband would toddle off to the pub to shoot some pool with the young men of the village and I would attend my organised community craft group. There were around eleven or twelve of us, a couple of elderly ladies from the church group, three young mums, a mother/daughter, the mother being roughly my age, mid forties and the remainder of our group consisted of several recently retired ladies.

We had great fun participating in various craft projects, sewing, painting, knitting, baking etc. But the greatest fun came from the gossip. My ladies always had plenty to tell about who was having an affair with whom, or who was divorcing or which neighbour was feuding with which and other such tasty tales. It was always great to gather the dirt on some of the shameful residents in our community. Gathering all of these juicy stories, I always looked forward to passing the news in chat around the village. I loved it.

After our social meet, I would return home, usually getting in around an hour ahead of my hubbies return from the pub. This gave me time to change out of my jeans and smock top and into something more glamorous. I always liked to look glam for when my husband returned home after he'd enjoyed a few drinks. Especially when he had the lads in tow. I'd have a few glasses of wine to relax me, carefully apply my make up, choosing alluring eyeshadow and rosy red lippy. Stripping naked, I'd change into black nylons and a suspender set with matching black lace bra. Then I'd choose from my collection of boudoir evening wear. Whether it be one of my many differing coloured negligee's, camisole and panty sets, baby dolls, or even one of my fabulous corsets. Finally I'd fix my hair up and step into my patent stiletto's. My craft group girls if they could see me now, would not recognise me, of that I'm quite sure. This is why I loved Friday nights.

My husband always had four or five of the young lads with him when he returned home. Usually the nineteen or twenty year olds who were youthfully finding their way in the world. My husband had become very friendly with the young 'in' crowd and they all loved him. What I loved about his gang of friends is, unlike the woman around town, when they had a secret, they never gossiped and I'm sure they had plenty they could gossip about.

I'd be sitting in the armchair in the lounge when they arrived, glass of wine in my hand, listening to soft sultry music. I never spoke when they arrived, I simply sat and sipped on my wine offering no more than a whispered 'good evening boys'. After all I knew most of their mothers and just loved to have their company on Friday evenings. It was their evening to enjoy and my evening to enjoy sharing.

Hubby would pass around the drinks and they would find a location to sit around the lounge, smiling and joking with each other, but always looking toward me for approval. I always sat with a confident, yet alluring expression not giving them an opportunity to determine my inner feelings. Even though I was absolutely loving the attention which was their youthful respect. I knew they were all excited and I was the object of their excitement. This was a special craft that i had mastered, a craft through the understanding that any woman can be a desired prize.

I liked to be thought of as a desired prize and my husband understood that. He certainly wouldn't find another like me, a loving, caring, good looking, upstanding and respected figure of the community. My Friday night admirers pleased my husband all the more and confirmed to him that I was a wife worth loving. These young men knew a beautiful, curvaceous, mature woman when they saw one. This was part of our regular Friday play. To confirm his choice in me, he would ask his young friends for their thoughts and encourage them not to be bashful. My husband always lead the way, teaching his friends to be confident with their thoughts. He was a good guidance example for the young men.

'Don't you think Liz looks luscious tonight boys?' he'd ask, following it up with something like, 'what would you do with a woman like that if you had one, eh?' It wasn't long before the compliments came flooding from the enthusiastic youngsters.

Compliments like 'Your wife has such beautiful tits mister Jay' or 'With those legs, I'd be worshiping them every night mister Jay'. Some of the lads would openly make very rude comments that would cause a timid lass to blush, comments like 'I'd be licking her beautiful pussy every night'. Their thoughts would keep coming, prompted by hubby revealing torrid, sexy secrets and inviting responses, such as 'I love to sink my cock into her and dance around the lounge with her on it, who'd join me if they had the chance?' he'd ask. 'I'd love to slip inside her beside you mister Jay.' would come a naughty suggestion. It wasn't long before my husband had the boys sitting around our home with their hard cocks out on display. This was another reason why Friday night had really become my evening to look forward to.

From my craft classes to being surrounded by a sea of throbbing cocks, all seeking to enjoy my mature loving way, it was such a thrilling start to my weekend. The ladies in my craft group had no idea of the fun they were missing out on. I'm sure a couple of my ladies would love to join me on my continued Friday evening craft-scapades.

I loved to watch all the lads wank and smile together. The selection of cocks was inspiring. I'd study each from my armchair knowing I was one privileged lady to have this regular study time. Depending who came home with Albert my husband, I regularly had the opportunity to experience fat stubby cocks, long thin cocks, average throbbing cocks, one of the boys even had a massive ten inch tool, but they all had something in common, they were always eager and slicked wet with pre cum juices, especially released for me. The routine always had me wet with anticipation. Having grown to look forward to it so much, I was usually wet before they arrived home, it was getting so, I was wet at the craft group wondering who my first cock was going to be on Friday fun night.

As the boys wank, I'd open my legs and start caressing my panty gusset, soaking it wet with my juices. My husband would usually select one of the lads, instructing him to have a little taste. in a flash, he'd be on his knees before me, his tongue dipping in and out of my wanting cleft. I'd remove the pleasure passage covering item of clothing and then pull and hold my young lovers face into my pussy and encourage him to go wild with his sucking and licking. I'd often smile to my husband before inviting all the lads to come close. Soon I'd be sucking and jerking their hard-ons, rubbing them over my face and body and having a real wild time.

Albert would sit in his favourite armchair, pulling on his cock for all it was worth whilst watching his prized lady pleasure his young friends. He would vocally encourage us to enjoy ourselves. The lads youthful eagerness soon had them slipping their cocks into my horny, wet cunt. They enjoyed swapping positions, one minute, one would be pounding my pussy whilst I sucked on another, then I'd be sucking my juices from the cock that had just been fucking me whilst another throbbing cock inserted itself into my honey pot, sending quivers of excitement through my body.

I always seem to end up on my back on the soft rug in the middle of our lounge being fucked like crazy. Nothing beats the sensation of entertaining a host of hard cocks and enthusiastic boys. The boys often tell me how beautiful my legs and nylons look as I lay fucking. I love laying on my back, holding my legs in the air, my stiletto heels pointing ceiling-ward and bouncing to the rhythm of whichever lad is slapping his stiffy into me. I hear the boys whisper, 'Oh Liz your legs are so gorgeous I could fuck you for a lifetime' or 'Liz you're so beautiful in your sexy stockings'.

The climax to the evening would entail my young admirers, all of whom would be naked, kneeling around my reclining body and jerking their cocks to the point of showering me with their cum. The sight of pulses of sperm ejaculate from excited cocks never ceased to thrill me. My tits and torso would be awash with their love slime as string after string of the delightful sperm landed across me. Some lads would splash their jizz onto my face and I would enjoy tasting the salty seed. I'd encourage the boys to massage their offerings around my body. Slicking my skin with their cream brought me pleasure knowing it was helping to keep me feeling young, soft and smooth, and best of all, desired.

My husband would at last climb on and sink his loving manhood into my used, juicy hole, filling me with his happiness at our sharing event. He always shot jet after jet of his warm spunk into my hot snatch to end craft night proceedings. It was always his most excited fuck of the week. The boys would cheer for Albert and then shower me with kisses to show their appreciation and love. Each would promise after clean up, to return for for another loving craft night in future.

With craft night being such a success and many of the young men in our community enjoying it so much, a few who have girlfriends have suggested they could encourage their partners to come along one Sunday to create a vintage fashion evening. The girls know I have a collection of vintage dresses, suits and evening wear and they have expressed an excitement to come along for some dress up fun. Albert hopes that they will be most impressed by my lingerie and stockings collection and happy to do a little fashion parade for the boys wearing nothing but that... and so do I.

I'm now, so looking forward to Sunday night, fully fashioned night.