Ed McCaffrey's Penile Lubricant Ch. 05

"My back, Doreen, I wouldn't want to strain it and slip something. Not that I'm saying you're too heavy or something. Far from it. I would say the same to Susan. Best to wait for Mr Lovell. He won't be long." Behind him he heard Mr Lovell. He must have pretty much run to have got there so quickly.

"Oh," said Mr Lovell, "Oh!"

"Mrs Settle is rather stuck,"

"That must be very uncomfortable, I mean you ladies..."

It was awful. A second person, a second man, seeing her naked and perhaps even in a sexual situation. Mr Canning had asked if she 'liked' doing that. She was well aware many years before, when she was Susan's age, she had had a bicycle with a narrow, rather racing saddle. It had been very firm - hard - between her thighs and she could well remember how sometimes on country bike rides she had found herself rubbing against it as she cycled along. Leaning forward, clenching a little and pedalling hard up a hill seemed to bring on a pleasing wetness. At first, she had thought the feeling was cramp, but then realised it was something very different. She had made herself come, and the feeling, then, of freewheeling down the other side of the hill after orgasm, letting her knees part and feeling the rush of wind up into her cotton skirt and over her now rather wet knickers had been glorious - it had been a hot day, after all. And when she had done the same the weekend after, and had come, pedalling hard on the same hill, she had rather daringly, hopped off her bike and taken her knickers off. Freewheeling down the other side she had opened her legs and felt the air rushing directly against her exposed sex without any intervening cotton. Whether the male bicycle rider pulling up the hill the other side of the road had seen much she did not know! She had been having a second orgasm at the time! An orgasm at speed.

The wooden rail did remind her of the leather saddle, only that had not been cold. It had been very warm! She might have been happy for the man on the bicycle toiling up the hill to have caught a glimpse but that was years before and her present predicament was very different.

"Now, how are we to lift Mrs Settle, Mr Lovell?"

"If I got the other side we could lift her under her arms and knees."

Mr Lovell seemed to find it quite easy to roll over the bar a little further down the garden, despite his overcoat he did the manoeuvre not as she had done by trying to get over vertically, but rather horizontally. He had sort of lain down on the bar and just rolled over.

"Now listen carefully, Doreen, and just do as I say."

She had looked into Mr Canning's eyes and nodded. She was pleased he was not looking at her body. It was all so embarrassing. She listened to his instructions, her eyes not leaving his. She found herself blinking and momentarily disorientated when he had finished.

"Now, hands away, Doreen, we need to hold you under your armpits and then your knees."

And there she was, fully exposed to Mr Canning again but now also to Mr Lovell. And it got worse. As they reached under her arms and the crook of her knees she found herself being lifted up. That exposed not just her black triangle of pubic hair but much of what lay between her legs, the wet hairs matted from the condensation on the rail, her open pinkness and even her vaginal opening. Fleetingly, she thought that might be the first time the two old gentlemen had seen such a thing.

Despite their gayness it was just so embarrassing. Two men had her in their arms, cradled there with her legs apart, lifting her up and then rotating her so her foot on her side of the fence came over the rail and joined the other on the other side; and soon she was sitting upon the rail and able to slip off and down onto Mr Canning's side of the fence to join him.

"You must be freezing. Come inside for a cup of tea."

It was a pat on her bottom. It really was. Mr Canning encouraging her through his open back door and into his kitchen and out of the cold. It was not at all what she would have expected from him. Indeed, much more what she would expect from Alf Sargent. In a way it was worse in the kitchen. She was standing there stark naked in her neighbour's kitchen with him in pyjamas and dressing gown and Mr Lovell in an overcoat. It was, though, lovely and warm in there. It was so good to be out of the cold. So good not to have that cold rail against her sex.

She looked at Mr Lovell's overcoat thinking perhaps he might offer that to her to cover her nakedness and to get warm but seemingly not a bit of it. He was putting the kettle on.

"I wonder, Mr Lovell, if I might borrow your coat for a bit?"

It was her third mistake, perhaps not a stupid one, not as stupid as the first two but perhaps it showed a lack of attention. Mr Lovell undid the belt of his coat and then the buttons. It was somewhat - or very like - the action of a 'dirty old man' towards a schoolgirl in the park. Mr Lovell as a 'flasher.' He had nothing on under the overcoat; he had hurried from his flat at Mr Canning's call and just grabbed the overcoat; Doreen Settle had missed his bare legs under his coat. All at once, there was Mr Lovell as stark naked as she; and where she had a dark triangle of hair, Mr Lovell had grey curls and masculine genitalia.

Her hand flew to her mouth, "Oh," she said, "Oh." She was even more embarrassed now. "I didn't mean... I didn't know..." But Mr Lovell had taken his coat off and was offering it to her. It was not quite like Sir Walter Raleigh and his cloak for Good Queen Bess, but she could not see it as anything but gallant. Her embarrassed blush spread.

"I feel a little overdressed," smiled Mr Canning, "perhaps you'd like my dressing gown?" He took that off, leaving him in striped pyjamas. "But, I think, Doreen, it'd be better if we rubbed you down rather than just wrapping you up." He spread the dressing gown on the kitchen table. "Up you hop."

Rubbed down? She was cold but... what did he mean?

"A bit of a massage to stimulate the skin, bring the warm blood into the capillaries and make you feel better. Mr Lovell, could you get...?"

Doreen Settle found herself doing just what she was told, ample bottom on the table's edge and then her lifting herself up and moving backwards across the table, her legs tight shut.

She saw Mr Lovell come back into the kitchen with a plastic bottle in its hand. It had a long neck and she could read the label

'Ed McCaffrey's Enervating Lotion.' There was a stylised logo on the bottle that reminded her of, well, a man's erect penis. Worse the penile shape seemed as if ejaculating as the upwards 'Y' of the 'McCaffrey's' name. What a fancy! Mr Lovell unscrewed the top and the long neck too looked remarkably phallic, the rounded top so like the knob end of an erect penis. She gasped when Mr Lovell squeezed the bottle, not from the sudden touch of the lotion upon her skin but from just how it fitted in with her thoughts - it so looked like an ejaculation.

The enervating lotion was across her stomach. How had Mrs Settle got herself into this position? One moment she was pottering around in her kitchen, tidying up after husband and daughter had left: the next she was lying on her neighbour's kitchen table, stark naked about to be rubbed down by two old gentlemen, one as naked as she and the other not a lot better - in his pyjamas - about to be rubbed down with what looked so like... well, semen.

The two gentlemen were good. Their rubbing was not amateurish, perhaps they had practised massage on each other. Doreen Settle closed her eyes and let herself be warmed by the energetic and slippery rubbing of hands across skin, muscles were kneaded, and she warmed. They had her roll over and she felt yet more lotion squirted. It landed on her bottom cheeks. She could feel it running down into her crack. Firm hands began to massage her buttocks, drawing them up and down and from side to side. Awfully they might be able to see her bottom hole. A disturbing, embarrassing thought, but she found she could do very little about it. The massage seemed to have removed her ability to move very much. She felt relaxed and rather sleepy and mostly nice and warm. Only her sex still felt cold from that smooth but very cold painted rail. Her shoulders were massaged, strong fingers working upon her.

The two men rolled her back onto her back and then surprised her by squirting more lotion right over her breasts. Momentarily she opened her eyes. The lotion was there across her breasts, even a strand trailing across one hard nipple. Touching her left breast the top of the lotion bottle, its rounded end so like the knob of a penis, even where the top screwed on looking like the folds of a retracted foreskin; the opening at the top too was a slit rather than rounded, again recalling the sight of a penis. It reminded her of seeing Mr Settle's penis freshly ejaculated over her breasts and lying there upon one mound. Mr Settle sometimes did that when she was not 'in the mood.' He seemed to like coming across her 'tits' (as he would say); he liked her to wank him over them, liked to touch her breasts with his cock; liked her to rub her nipples with his spermy knob.

"Your nipples feel rather cold, Doreen." Mr Canning had both of them twixt his fingers and was gently rolling them; his fingers sticky with the lotion. It was strangely pleasant - sexual even. Again, the thought of her arousal on her bicycle and how she had sometimes tweaked her own nipples as she rode, not that they would have been exposed, rather the tweaking was through blouse and brassiere. Well, except that one time.

Doreen closed her eyes and remembered. A lonely road, more of a track and she had hopped off her bicycle and looked both ways. A long straight track and gorse bushes either side to hide behind if need be; easy to ride straight off the track and disappear should anyone have appeared along the track. It had taken some courage, but she had done it. Knickers down, blouse off, brassiere off and then skirt undone and all stuffed in her saddle bag. She had been naked, but for her plimsolls, on the track with her bicycle. It had been strangely exciting. The sun on her exposed skin had been pleasant; the feeling of freedom; and it had been sexual. Swinging her leg and mounting the saddle - the hard leather against her sensitive skin - and then riding away, legs working; a naked girl on a bicycle. And, of course, her thoughts as a young girl, were on boys, a couple she fancied, and her thoughts were of them riding naked, or at least exposed. She imagined them coming towards her along the track and, of course, riding erect with their cocks sticking up from their saddles. She had rubbed the hard saddle between her lips as she rode thinking of the boys and what she would have liked to have done with them.

"We're a little worried you might have hurt yourself riding the rail like that."

The two rather mature gentlemen had their hands upon her legs and were trying to ease them apart. Her head swam a little, perhaps it was all the shock of her ordeal, perhaps it was the massage and getting warm. She felt a little confused between her very clear memory of bicycling and where she was on Mr Canning's table. She thought she heard Mr Lovell say, "So, this is where babies come from." There seemed genuine interest from the old gentleman. Poor old poof, she thought.

An ejaculation or two from the bottle right upon her now exposed sex and then the feel of fingers, many fingers stroking her as Mr Settle had briefly done the night before. The fingers were intimate, running not just along the outer lips, where she had rested upon the rail, but inwards. The lotion was warming, a hot feeling building between her legs as she lay there with her eyes closed, half dreaming, caught between the present and the past. Her feet were planted upon the table and her thighs wide-spread. Fingers were indeed feeling 'where babies come from,' were even venturing into the 'birth canal' - quite a few of them.

"Doreen does not seem to have hurt herself."

"No, Mr Canning, as far as I can judge everything is fine. Oh, look, this must be her clitoris! How like a miniature knob it is. Look it even has a sort of foreskin."

The two old gentlemen seemed to think she had dropped off to sleep. And she had, she knew - almost - or was she asleep and dreaming?

"Does it move? Oh, yes!"

"Mr Lovell - you're wanking Mrs Settle!"

It was a nice feeling, gentler than Mr Settle was. She let her knees spread a little wider and thought of the gentle rub of the leather saddle upon her sex when she was a girl. Perhaps she should take up bicycling again. Buy a new bike. She would have to choose the saddle carefully.

"And this must be where she wees; funny it's not positioned at the end of her clitoris." The two gentlemen were touching her there now. It was all a bit like a gynaecological examination, only not by two doctors but rather two inexperienced - or ignorant - schoolboys discovering just what 'little girls are made of;' only she was hardly little and they hardly young - two overgrown schoolboys, perhaps - certainly, a couple of old queers suddenly learning about women. It was a funny dream to have. If it was a dream.

"I wonder what it's like when Mr Settle puts his penis in."

"Let's see with the lotion bottle."

"Or a cucumber. I see there's one in your vegetable rack."

"The Jolly Green Giant's cock!"

"Mr |Lovell! Really! But it is rather large and curving. It is somewhat like an erection. Like yours."

"Do you think she could take such a large one?"

"It is quite a substantial vegetable. We don't know how large Mr Settle is."

From Doreen Settle's lips came a single word, 'Small.' The word was barely a whisper.

The touch of the lotion bottle was welcome; the way its rounded end pushed at her was more than a little pleasing. In Doreen's mind thoughts of those two imagined boys on bicycles stopping and she braking as well, she coming to a halt just beyond them. She imagined her looking back at them and they looking back at her and all dismounting. The two lads with their so fine cocks sticking up, peeled and so right for a suck or a fuck. Walking towards them and grasping, pulling them into the roadside and behind gorse bushes onto the cropped grass; choosing the smaller to start with and, as the lotion bottle, pushed into her she felt wonderfully filled. Something Mr Settle just did not manage. What lovely boys.

She lay there on the table, feeling the neck of the lotion bottle pulled and pushed inside her.

"How interesting, Mr Canning, "Mrs Settle seems very accommodating - and doesn't the neck go in such a distance. I wonder - the cucumber?"

Doreen felt the squirting of the lotion bottle - as if the first boy in her half dream had come too quickly. Perhaps the second would have more staying power - unlike Mr Settle.

In her mind the image of the first boy rising from her and she pulling the second down upon her. Such a big boy but, so filling.

Filling indeed, as Mr Lovell pushed a rather substantial, firm and, indeed, green cucumber at Mrs Doreen Settle's opening. A slightly unnatural twisting motion helped its entry. He looked up at Mr Canning and winked. The two of them were very much enjoying playing with Mr Canning's neighbour. The idea she had in her head that they were a couple of old 'queens' and not at all interested in women's genitalia or curvaceous bodies was somewhat wide of the mark. On the contrary both were very much enjoying their retirement thanks to Mr Canning's exceptional skill as a hypnotist. They very much had Mrs Settle where they wanted her; were very much enjoying their little game of pretend surprise at what 'little girls are made of.' Their enjoyment could very much have been seen by Mrs Settle had she turned her head and looked down below the level of the table. Mr Lovell was, of course, already naked and his own 'cucumber' was neither limp, nor, as it happened, green, but was very visible and upstanding. Mr Canning's no less so, as it had poked its way out and up through his pyjama trouser fly. They were enjoying the sight and their feeling of her ample body, now interestingly aroused. It made a change and a contrast to Susan's young and trim body. It was a delight to the two old gentlemen to have both women to play and have carnal relations with at not irregular intervals.

The large, and curving cucumber, some foot long, progressed into Mrs Settle, stretching her somewhat but, as the two old gentlemen could see by her reaction, very pleasurably for her. It went in a little over halfway before being drawn back out by Mr Lovell and then in again. Mrs Settle's head was going from side to side, her eyes were closed and her mouth was opening and closing. Mr Canning looked at Mr Lovell - was Doreen's opening and closing mouth perhaps seeking something?

Undoubtedly the lotion had helped the entry, but it was very clear Mrs Settle was naturally lubricating.

"I wonder what it's like?" Mr Canning repeated his question.

"Perhaps we should find out."

"Perhaps we should, Mr Lovell."

Had Mr Settle or perhaps Susan come home unexpectedly and gone looking for the missing Mrs Settle what a sight they might have seen had they hopped over the fence and looked through Mr Canning's kitchen window. The cucumber was substantial - and green.

A shock to Mr Settle or Susan but had the observer been a more independent person, say a tradesman or perhaps an aged window cleaner, would he have thought Mrs Settle was being abused? The observer could not have missed a most arousing shaking from Mrs Settle, nor that opening and closing mouth. Would he have rather thought she was being attended to and pleasured? A women with two gentlemen in attendance upon her, assisting her with a large 'sex toy.' Would he have thought she had more sought the penis Mr Canning was pushing into her mouth than it being thrust upon - or rather slipped into - her?

Cucumber working one end and Mrs Settle slurping on Mr Canning's hard penis at the other, Doreen Settle was certainly being attended to - even if there was no elderly window cleaner wanking as he watched through the window. Mr Canning reached and began a rather direct manipulation of Doreen Settle's clitoris. It was all too much for the barely conscious woman. Her shaking became more violent - as if she had caught a chill from her experience upon the cold, wet rail - as her orgasm came in waves. It was not something she had achieved the night before with Mr Settle.

"I think she's passed out, Mr Canning."

"So she has. You were saying something about that we should find out what sexual intercourse is like, Mr Lovell."

Slowly Mr Lovell drew the cucumber out of Mrs Settle; he looked up at Mr Canning, "I think, actually, it's coming back to me. I think I recall doing that before with Mrs Settle."

"You know, Mr Lovell, so do I! Funny how you forget these things - must be age! A shame neither of us are quite the size of that cucumber."

Mr Lovell held it alongside his own upright member and shook his head. "But it would not fit in Susan - if that big; neither would fit in Susan."

"True, and that would be a shame. We did, after all, manage a double fit and a tight one at that! Shall I refresh my memory with Doreen here first."

"Please, Mr Canning, after you!"

A drawing of Mrs Doreen Settle's body down the table bringing her sex right to the edge. She was fast asleep. Mr Canning lifted up both legs, holding an ankle in each hand and then manoeuvred himself into position and the cucumber was replaced.

"Now how are we going to get Doreen back in her house without a key?"

A rather matter of fact conversation to have whilst having carnal relations with the sleeping Doreen Settle. Perhaps to prolong the pleasure of sliding his penis within her, slapping his balls against her - and he was certainly doing that as he talked.