Dancing Into Her Knickers Pt. 03

Hence, when Charles could get away from work and invite Monica to his place he had to know where Camille was.

Although for Monica her visits to Charles home were tainted by knowing that he had sex with Camille there and, in fact there were loads of her clothes there, overall they were some of their best times.

She might get a text around ten saying that he could be at the apartment by one or perhaps four and that he would have around three hours. If Bruce was in, which he generally was not for he played golf or snooker and had business meetings most days, he would tell him she was going shopping. The drive from Loughton to Docklands was only twelve or so miles down the A406 or A 12, so Monica would usually be in the apartment within half hour or so. Sometimes she would undress and be in bed waiting for Charles and other times she would open the door naked when the video alarm announced that someone was approaching. Other times she would remain clothed and they would undress each other. At times, though they ended up making love on the huge sofa in the lounge overlooking the Thames and across that the O2 Arena.

When Camille's movements could not be guaranteed and Bruce was at home they would go to hotels, sometimes in the afternoons, but mostly early evening. Whilst sex in hotels is usually exciting the glitz wore off quite quickly and the getting up and going home just when it would have been so nice to have fallen asleep in each other's arms rather took the shine off it.

But they both thought, 'beggars cannot be choosers,' and in this situation they were very much the beggars.

They argued occasionally. Generally that was about one of two topics; Monica's refusal to 'come out' and Charles refusal to end it with Camille.

"She's a fucking no good coke head," Monica yelled at him one afternoon at the apartment. "Why don't you dump her?"

"I can't, it's not that easy."

"It is just tell her."

"I have before and she threatened to kill herself."

"Oh dear."

"And in any case, if you won't leave Bruce I will need her."

"Do you love her?"

"In a way yes."

"But she's fucking nuts and she hates me."

"Well I don't blame her hating you for the reason she does."

"What?" Monica said startled.

"She has thought for ages that we have been having an affair."

"Bollocks, I didn't know."

"I didn't want to tell you."

"Reckon she has told Bruce."

"I doubt it she does not see him hardly at all does she?"

"No I guess not."

*

Bruce had once tried counting the number of women he had fucked. He could recall the names or looks of about a hundred, but knew that was well short of the real total. To get to that he would have to factor in going to a massage parlour on average three times every couple of months for a at least ten years, which meant at least another couple of hundred, plus the period when he used a high class brothel almost weekly for a few years before it was closed down. Trying to take all sources into consideration he put the number at around four hundred.

He had no idea what made him so greedy and unfaithful, but was just driven to try continually to see if the grass was greener on the other side. Sometimes it was, but often it wasn't.

With both his first wife and Monica he knew that had women who were good in bed. Each of them was adventurous and creative and indulged his whims of anal intercourse and swallowing his cum. He had tied both of them up and had them do that to him, but both had refused to go with another woman with him watching. That said, he rarely found any other women who were better in bed overall than his two wives, but what he sought was something different and that's what his endless stream of pick-ups, old flames, hookers, escorts and masseuses provided.

As he aged, he also changed. A straightforward fuck was no longer the turn on it used to be. Alright occasionally he might find a nineteen year old that amazed him or someone might be absolutely sensational, but generally speaking he now needed more than a fuck. He had experimented with S and M and BDSM, going to clubs and dungeons, but it was a little too contrived. He had tried spanking and although he did get a slight kick from seeing a woman's bum cheeks go brilliantly pink, it was not that big a deal and he soon got bored.

Recently, he was finding anal sex in its various forms to be most stimulating. He adored rimming a woman and fingering her arse. He loved getting his tongue up there and, of course he enjoyed fucking those tight passages. More and more, though, over the past year or so it was the reverse that he found most exciting. He had found a woman after his own heart. On their first time together he had pressed his finger right against her anus, going in just a little way, but she had stopped.

"Hey, not too far too soon," she had admonished stopping him.

That was not the case the second time when he slid his index finger up her to past his second knuckle and made her cum from a finger fuck up her arse.

The natural extension of this was mutual oral anal, full penetration of her with his cock and her giving him prostate massages. They both knew that they were heading inexorably for the ultimate anal sexual pleasure; her wearing a strapon and fucking him.

*

The party was at a banking friend of Charles house who was very rich. He lived near Fairfield in rural Essex in a massive ten or so bedroom mansion with extensive grounds. There were three marquees hosting the party, one for the meal and sitting around talking, another for a disco and a third for more sedate dancing.

After dinner, Monica and Charles danced a few times and agreed that they wanted to carry on.

Camille was stoned and probably drunk as well and Charles persuaded his friend to let her sleep it off ikn one of the guest bedrooms. Bruce was talking to some business associates and golfing cronies so they were able to be alone.

"Let's walk," Charles said eager to get Monica somewhere he could kiss her. The dancing, although wonderful because their bodies were pressed together was also agony as they were 'so near yet so far!'

It was dusk when with wine glasses in their hands they wandered as innocently as possible away from the marquees. They strolled round the corner of the pool changing room, out of sight of the party. He pushed her back against the wall and they kissed longer and deeper.

"God I so want you?" Charles muttered pressing his erection firmly against her tummy.

Monica felt the same; she could not remember ever wanting anyone as much as she did Charles right now.

"It's impossible Charles."

"No it's not, there's a back door into the pool and we can go in the changing rooms. Come on," he said roughly almost pulling her down a pea shingle path

"Fuck they've locked it," he said rattling the door. "We'll have to go alfresco?"

"We can't Charles," Monica groaned feeling as equally disappointed as she did aroused

"We can no one will come down here and we would hear them on the pea shingle," he replied, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth.

As he crushed her breasts against his chest, gripped both cheeks of her bum and thrust his erection into her tummy, Monica felt her resistance fading.

"Oh Charles this is crazy, it's madness, but so marvellous," she sighed grabbing his erection through his thin linen trousers.

He pulled one of the straps of the ankle-length dress down her arm and pushed and stroked, squeezed and pinched her tits, she was not wearing a bra, before leaning forward and sucking one of her prominent nipples into his mouth. She undid his shirt then his zip. She bit his nipple, quite hard.

"Hey steady, that hurt," Charles groaned making Monica laugh.

"Just be careful I don't leave scratch marks right down your back, you bastard, cheating on your father."

They both laughed.

He pulled her long skirt up; she wasn't wearing tights, just panties. He slid his hand between her thighs and lifted his thumb so that it pressed right into the gusset covering her pussy lips.

"You dirty bitch, you're soaked."

"Mmmm, I am and you are so fucking hard," she murmured. Charles wasn't sure whether that was due to what he was doing or, because she had taken hold of his bare, hard cock. Maybe a bit of both he thought.

He pressed his erection against her and wiggled his hand into the elastic of the waistband of her panties. He started to pull them down. As her pubes and pussy were exposed to the air, Monica felt an even more urgent surge of arousal than what she was getting from holding his throbbing cock. She grabbed his hand when her knickers were half-way down her thighs.

"That's far enough," she said sharply.

"What don't like the open air?" He replied pushing her knickers down past her knees.

"Just shut up and fuck me smartarse," Monica said helping Charles push his trousers and pants down a little.

Charles smiled, but did nothing further other than push his finger right against her clit, then ease two up inside her.

"Nice?" He asked hearing her grunt and feeling her body jerk.

"Yes," she grunted, grabbing his cock again.

She guided it towards her eager pussy. They kissed as it brushed against her lips and then she grunted and he groaned as he thrust his hips forward surging his cock deep inside her. Monica lifted one leg up and wrapped the calf and ankle round the back of Charles's legs. They were now kissing furiously as their arousal and passion grew. He was pounding into her, she was squirming herself back against him. His hands were all over her breasts, the top of her dress was now pulled down and was bunched round her waist: hers were running up and down his back, slightly scratching it, worrying Charles that she might carry out her earlier threat.

"Oh fuck yes," she grunted. "Harder, fuck me harder," she moaned grabbing his arse and digging her fingernails into the pliant flesh.

"You horny cow," he replied, surging himself as far into her as he could go and then holding himself rigid in there as she writhed against his hardness, in effect fucking herself.

"I'm near," he grunted.

"Good," she responded.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Several more deep, slow thrusts from him, a few more writhing, squirming movements from Monica, and they were both cumming. Each holding onto the cheeks of the other's bum and squeezing those delicious mounds they relished in their mutual climax.

"Phew," Monica muttered falling against Charles.

"Nice?" He asked.

"Mmm, bloody lovely."

"Come on we had better get back."

"Oh fuck look at my panties?" Monica said. They both looked down and saw that they had slipped off from her foot and she or he had trod on them, they were covered in dirt.

"Easy," Charles said, picking them up and shoving them in his pocket.

*

"Look it's Bruce's birthday, why not come with me and we can all go to dinner after the dance," Charles asked Camille a couple of weeks later.

"You want me to come to fucking Essex?"

"Yes, why not?"

"I get the shakes when I leave town," she smiled lighting a Marlboro."

"It won't be that bad, I promise," Charles said leaning across the bed and kissing her.

"Why do you and your step-whore have to go to the fucking dance?"

"She's not a whore and certainly not mine," Charles retorted a little too sharply.

"Methinks you protest too much," Camille replied sliding her hand down the bed and grabbing his cock. "I bet you have fucked her."

"Don't be daft Cam."

"Or at least would like to."

"Why do you think I would want to fuck my step mother?"

"Because my darling," she went on cupping his balls and scratching gently on his perineum. "You are up for fucking anything that's attractive and sexy."

"Just leave it Cam or I might start asking you some awkward questions. Anyway are you going to come?"

"Let me play with this a bit more and there will be no stopping me," she giggled.

"I meant to the house," Charles replied as he felt his balls start tingling. That sensation, he realised, was coming more though from thinking about Monica than what his fiancée was doing to him, nice as that was.

"I know you meant that, but I also meant this," Camille said rubbing his rapidly hardening cock. "You really are a randy bugger aren't you?"

"When a guy gets his dick rubbed by a bird his does tend to get hard you know."

"But you only need me to look at yours and it starts to grow."

"So will you come?"

"Fuck me now and I will come both ways."

Charles could not stop himself from smiling at Camille's phrasing.

"So what time on Saturday?"

"It's a tea dance."

"What the fuck's that?"

"A dance at teatime so that people can go on somewhere after it. We'll be finished by eight or so," he said lying by an hour to give him and Monica some time alone."

"Jesus Christ what a bore, but ok, just to please the old fart."

"He may be many things Cam, but my dad is not an old fart."

"No that's true, in his way he's pretty cool."

"And we can stay the night so I won't have to worry about drinking and driving."

They left for Loughton, Essex at just after one the following Saturday afternoon. The plan was that Charles and Monica would got to the salsa tea dance in Wanstead whilst Camille went shopping in Loughton and Buckhurst Hill where there was numerous boutiques. Bruce had said that he would be going to his club to play snooker so they all arranged to be ready to go out to dinner by eight thirty.

"Fuck me Monica," Camille exclaimed when her potential mother-in-law came downstairs wearing one of her skimpy Latin dance dresses. "You aren't going out like that are you?"

"Of course it's what they all wear."

"Bloody sex on legs as far as I can see, you look fab."

"We have to go, do you want a lift Cam," Charles asked?

"No I'll walk, I am told it is good for you."

Charles pulled the Rangerover into a car park cut into Epping Forest. They immediately kissed deep and long.

"It's been to long Mons," he groaned running his hand up and down her back noting the lack of a bra strap. "Who don't we stay here?"

"No, come on we have to go, it counts towards the competition."

"True, but I need you so badly."

"It'll be dark on our way home."

They got to Wanstead just as the dance started and were soon on the floor swirling around to a cha cha cha.

As Monica strode purposefully forward to the surging beat, she slipped and her ankle turned over.

"Oh my god," she cried as the pain hit her. Charles grabbed her. "You ok?"

"No, it bloody hurts," she said leaning against her young lover.

"Will you be able to carry on?"

Gingerly putting her foot to the ground, Monica winced with the pain.

"I don't think so I must have twisted it."

"Let's leave it then and go home, I'll get something from the pharmacy."

Charles helped her out of the hall and got her into the car.

"I suppose that sods up the car park doesn't it Mons?"

Laughing, she replied. "Yes I need to get something on this. Do you put a sprained ankle into hot or cold water.?"

"Haven't got the foggiest, I'll ask in the chemist shop or do you want to go A and E?"

Stopping at a Boots the Chemist in Wanstead High Street, they bought some Voltarol ointment and an elasticated support that was recommended by the pharmacist who told them to put it in cold water or place a bag of ice or peas from the freezer on the swelling.

They got to the house a few minutes later, which was just over an hour since they had left to go to the dance. Charles let them in with his key and was slightly surprised that the alarm was not on. Smiling as he helped Monica through the front door, he assumed that Bruce had left first and that doing anything as mundane as turning on an alarm would be beneath Camille.

"Let's go in the lounge and you can lay on the sofa," Charles said as he opened the door to the lounge.

They both quickly realised that would not be possible for Bruce was laying full length on the sofa. He was naked. He looked round when he heard the door open and said.

"Oh fuck," as he looked to the other side of the room that had been hidden from Charles and Monica by the door.

They both looked to that end and saw Camille standing by a window with her back to them. She too was naked. As she heard Bruce speak she turned round and they saw that she was wearing a black strapon cock.