Entertaining at Large Ch. 03

After a minute or two of steady action Tracy pulled her head back from the glistening prick. She rested her weight back on her heels panting and started wanking the full length of Mr J's cock whilst sort of jiggling his balls in her left hand. She spat on his member before speaking.

'We'll only be a minute. There's plenty of tea in the pot.'

Mr J opened his eyes and saw me for the first time. He looked both surprised and shocked and started to struggle to get himself upright. Tracy was having none of that. She pushed him gently backwards with a firm hand and, after winking at me, slowly lowered her head over him again. I was spellbound as she slowly descended. She took in the whole length of his dick and when her chin touched his balls jerked her head spasmodically. She was choking herself and I saw her face redden and tears appeared in her eyes. She pulled back quickly, panting again.

'I want you to come in my mouth, Tiger.'

She growled her instructions. Mr J groaned in response and his breathing increased. I could see his erection harden perceptibly as his orgasm approached. Tracy was gripping him tightly with her lips and could no doubt feel the stiffness too. He came with a shout, slamming his hips upwards and pushing his cock to the back of the young woman's throat. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and held her head still as his balls pulsed. I could see a small trickle of sperm leave the corner of Tracy's mouth as she gulped the rest down desperately.

Then they were done. Mr J collapsed back onto the sofa, a huge grin on his lips. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand Tracy rocked back on her heels again. This time she sustained the momentum and used it to rise to her feet. She straightened a tight green T-shirt over her breasts and pulled down the hem of her short denim skirt, wiggling her bottom to make sure it was straight. She stepped to me and we hugged.

'Wotcha Susan. He's quite well hung for an old 'un isn't he?'

We both glanced down at Mr J's softening penis. He was still not moving after his exertions. His cock was flopped sideways onto one of his shirt tails. The grin remained on his lips. I flushed a little and nodded.

'Fancy a cuppa? It was only made a few minutes ago. I'll go and see if I can find another cup.'

She nodded towards a tray on a small table before leaving the room. It held a marching teapot, a couple of cups, milk in a jug, two plates piled with sandwiches and what looked like a home-made cake. It all looked very enticing; a bit like the Sunday teas my grandmother used to make when I visited as a child. Next to the tray, however, there was a pile of what looked like nineteen seventies-vintage girlie magazines; the top one was open at the centre spread. My grandma was a Women's Realm reader.

'They're good aren't they? My mum's in one of them. I'll show you in a minute.'

Tracy was back dangling a mug from her finger. All the activity had brought Mr J back to us. He was struggling to haul his trousers back up in his slumped position. He returned my smile.

'Hello Susan. Sorry I didn't answer the door to you. I was...'

He coughed.

'... Otherwise engaged.'

All three of us laughed and he climbed to his feet to finish dressing.

'Please excuse me while I go and tidy myself up. I'll find you a more appropriate cup.'

He held out his hand to take the mug from Tracy before leaving the room. We heard him start whistling as he went to the kitchen.

'You seem to have made an old man very happy.'

'I do, don't I? He even tastes sweet.'

She wiped her mouth again. We laughed together. There was something about Tracy which made people comfortable around her. I had only met her a couple of times, yet I felt we were old friends despite the age difference. I sat down on the sofa and reached for one of the unopened magazines.

'Let's see if we can find Mandy. You don't seem to have got very far.'

'Nah. I could see he was getting a stiffy and you know me. Can't see a hard cock without sucking it.'

She picked up another magazine and began leafing through it.

'They had loads of hair in those days didn't they?'

I looked down at the picture on the page I had reached. It was of a bouffanted brunette. She was naked save for a gold chain around her waist. Her legs were spread as she lay back in an antique leather armchair. Her pink pussy glistened from within a forest of black hair.

'You mean on their heads, or everywhere?'

'Everywhere really. I mean look at this one. She hasn't even shaved her legs.'

She held open a double spread of pages for my inspection. Her model was blonde, she was tanned and fine golden hairs shone on her legs. Thicker tufts sprouted under her armpits and her pubes were so long that her slit was barely visible.

'Probably a fashion thing. We'll have to ask Mr J.'

'Ask me what?'

He bustled back into the room and set about pouring tea for us all.

'Tracy was just commenting on how hirsute the models are.'

'I did not.'

She sounded indignant.

'I just said they had a lot of hair. My mum would belt me if she thought I was using bad language in company.'

I smiled at her feeling a bit ashamed of myself for using posh words there was little chance she would understand. But then wondering about a code of etiquette which forbad swearing, but seemed completely OK with sucking off your host when invited for afternoon tea.

'Sorry Tracy. "Hirsute" is just another word for hairy.'

'That's alright then. Didn't they ever shave Oz?'

Mr J passed over cups of tea and the plated sandwiches to each of us. I sat down on the carpet next to the table and put mine down. Tracy plumped down next to me and followed suit. We both looked up for an answer.

'No women didn't in those days. Well sometimes armpits and legs. I can't remember when I first saw a shaved pussy. Maybe the eighties, possibly the nineties. Anyway it was unheard of when these were published.'

'Quite a collection of mucky mags you've got here Mr J. Did Beryl know about them?'

He looked sheepishly down at his hands.

'I don't think so. I kept them in a box down in my shed. Anyway, married couples didn't discuss things like that in those days.'

I doubted that was true, but didn't want to press. Mr J had told me how much he missed his wife and I wasn't really certain how comfortable he was discussing his porn collection with his nosey neighbour. Time to change the subject.

'Anyhow. Where's those photos of Mandy? I can't wait to see them.'

I reached for the pile of magazines but Mr J reached out and caught my arm.

'Let me. I looked through them this morning. I know exactly where she is.'

He hummed to himself as he created a new neat pile of the magazines as he took each copy from the old one. He let out a triumphant cry when he got about half-way down.

'Here she is. Readers' Wives number sixty. I remember it as if it was yesterday.'

He started to leaf through the well-thumbed publication. I couldn't help noticing that some of the pages seemed to be stuck together. I watched him prise them gently apart. He eventually got to the page he was looking for and spread out the magazine on the table, gently smoothing the pages as if straightening a bed sheet. Tracy and I craned our necks together to get a better look. We both let out expressions of surprise simultaneously.

'Wow. She was a looker in those days, wasn't she?'

'My mum's never been to Birmingham in her life.'

I was commenting on the photographs. Today's Mandy has the biggest breasts I have ever seen. The one in the magazine was a petite 34-26-34; it said so in one of the captions. Tracy had been reading the short article accompanying the photo spread. It claimed "eighteen year old Amanda is a secretary in a busy accountant's office in Birmingham". We both laughed.

'Look at what she's wearing.'

Tracy pointed to the tweed two-piece suit her mother was easing herself out of in the first photo. I was struck by the stylish short bob she sported. We were both silent as we turned the pages together as Mandy shed her clothes one piece at a time. In the last one she was completely naked except for a pair of high heels and a pearl necklace. Even after my short experience with Mr J's dirty books I was beginning to recognise the spread legs and pouting lips. I stared at the face. It was definitely her; I could see the resemblance to Tracy in her youthful self. I smiled at Mr J.

'So how did you recognise her?'

'Never forget a face. I spotted her as soon as we went into the pub.'

'You mean you looked at the faces whilst you were wanking?'

'Susan!'

It was Tracy who let out the admonishment. I remembered her stricture about bad language and apologised. She looked stern. I hoped she was putting it on. I didn't want to upset her.

'That's my mother you're talking about.'

There was a pause.

'Anyway. Did you?'

She was looking at Mr J.

'Toss yourself off whilst looking at pictures of my Mum?'

She grinned guilelessly. Clearly the language taboo was not as strict as I had thought. We waited for a reply. He reached over and slowly turned the magazine to get a clearer look. A small grin spread across his face.

'Undoubtedly. Absolutely.'

The grin broadened as he slowly turned the page back to the beginning of the article.

'I knew the articles and stuff were all made up, but I never dreamed that one day I might meet...'

He straightened in his seat and his face took on a questioning look.

'Do you think she would autograph this for me?'

'Autograph? My mum?'

Tracy started laughing and did not stop. She rolled back on the carpet, I could see the white knickers she had on underneath the skirt. We started giggling too, there was something infectious about her loss of control. Eventually she pulled herself upright wiping away tears from her eyes. She cleared her throat.

'Sorry about that. It's just that she's my mum. I can't really think of her as a star. I'll ask her, but I'm pretty sure she'll be flattered. Probably just want to see the pictures again.'

Tracy coughed again and shook her head smiling only to herself this time.

'Anyway. Oz said you wanted to talk to me about some work. Someone who was in the pub last night?'

I pulled myself more upright as well. With all the excitement I had almost forgotten why I had come.

'Yes. I spoke to him this afternoon. It's a stag night. They want us to strip for them.'

'How much?'

Tracy was all business. This was not a side of her I had seen before.

'A hundred and fifty.'

She let out a low whistle.

'Seventy five quid each. I'm in. When is it?'

'No. I asked him for one hundred and fifty each.'

I had worried I might have asked for too little. I was clearly wrong. Tracy's mouth dropped open.

'Bloody hell. I've never earned that much in my life. What do they want us to do?'

'He just said "entertain us". I said we'd each do a strip. He seemed OK with that.'

'Probably expect us to fuck them all for that kind of cash. How many of them are they expecting?'

'Ten.'

My voice sounded a little squeaky. It hadn't occurred to me that sex might be on the agenda. I mean, I knew myself, exposing myself made me randy as anything. This, I told myself, needed more thought. Tracy just whistled.

'Five each. I suppose that's doable. Ever had a gang bang?'

I nodded wordlessly. Though I was ten years older than her, I was definitely the naïve one. She waited for me to spill the beans, but just shrugged when I didn't continue.

'Me too. Pacing yourself, that's the trick. Make the first few come quickly then settle back and enjoy the rest.'

Her laugh sounded like a little girl's.

'When is it?'

'Next month. Fifteenth.'

'A Saturday. I'll have to get Jason to babysit. We should work out a routine. I'll get mum to help.'

'What do you mean "routine"?'

I was confused. She started speaking slowly. People were doing that a lot since my life had changed, I mused.

'You know, what we're going to do.'

I was obviously looking confused. Or gormless.

'It's not like down the pub. There'll be no George setting the agenda and keeping the punters in line. We can't just go in there and get naked. We have to work out a show, make sure we're in charge all the time. Know what I mean?'

I didn't and my blank look must have given that fact away. This whole situation was a lot more complicated than my fears or my expectations. I scratched my head.

'Don't worry. I've done one or two of these sorts of thing. Usually give the best man and the groom a blow job and then leave them to their porn. Mum'll sort us out. She's still doing the odd one now and again.'

'Mandy is?'

I was amazed. Assuming the Readers' Wives editorial team were something near the mark with their estimation of her age, and that was a big ask, she would be in her late-fifties if she was a day. Mr J rubbed his hands together and was suddenly looking expectant.

'Yeah. Chubby chasers, big bazoomers that sort of show.'

Tracy spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I nodded philosophically. Her tits were mountainous; a man could get lost in there. I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn she had a couple of skinny lads stashed somewhere in her cleavage. And she was twenty-odd stone if she was a pound. I shook my head.

'Takes all sorts I suppose.'

'Is there any chance I could get an invitation to her next show?'

'Hold your horses, you old goat. Me and Tracy have to sort out what we're doing first. We'll deal with you and your nostalgic perversions later.'

Tracy smiled at me and started ticking off questions on her fingers. She was sitting cross-legged now, completely oblivious to the fact the stretched panties left nothing of the topography of her snatch to the imagination.

'What sort of extras are they looking for? You're obviously into having that round bottom spanked.'

She glanced up at me to check she was not crossing any lines. If this was a normal teatime conversation I might have stopped her there. But as both of them had seen me squirt my orgasm all over the stage after a sharp tanning from a big-handed Yorkshireman I let it go.

'Do they want a bit of S&M? I've got a lovely little black leather number, complete with riding crop. Never used it on a girl before, but there's a first time for everything.'

I was still not fully on top of my interest in spanking. I knew I liked it, but I was new to the whole thing and was not sure I wanted to explore my new boundaries in public.

'I don't know.'

'OK we'll come back to that one. Anything else?'

'Golden showers?'

The words were out of my mouth before I had fully engaged my brain. I had had a man watch me wee once. He had dipped his hand into the stream and drunk some of it. It was not as disgusting as the looks on Mr J and Tracy's faces hinted they found it, but again, probably best explored away from prying eyes.

'Dressing up. We should get some idea of what they want us to wear.'

'I just thought...'

'No. Make them tell us. They'll be wanking for weeks in expectation.'

'Good idea. I'll ask Matt when he calls.'

The thought of a long conversation with the smooth-voiced tax man sent a shiver through me. There was definitely something about the way he spoke which touched a button somewhere in me. I forced myself back to the present.

'Make sure you bring fresh knickers. Some perv always nicks the ones you're wearing.'

I glanced across at a blushing Mr J. He had a pair of mine somewhere in the house. To be fair to him though, I had pressed them on him as a souvenir of his first blow job. Tracy was idly tapping a fingernail against her teeth; her face was a picture of concentration. She almost jumped up as her next idea came to her.

'Ooh, I know. A bit of lezzy action. All blokes like that, don't they Oz?'

He was looking as clueless as I was. Tracy noticed.

'You know, girl-on-girl stuff? Lesbian?'

Mr J perked up. I frowned at him.

'I've never done anything like that. I don't know if I could.'

'What? Never? Not even when you've got a bit pissed at a sleepover with your mates?'

'No.'

'I have. It's OK, not as good as cock obviously. But I did it once at a strip pub with my cousin Scarlett. The lads loved it. We made a ton.'

I must still have looked sceptical. Or perhaps just plain scared.

'You like that sort of thing don't you Oz? Come on, be honest.'

Mr J cleared his throat.

'I'm not exactly sure what you're talking about, but it sounds most intriguing.'

He licked his dry lips. I shook my head.

'What sort of thing will we have to do?'

I sighed inwardly. I really was becoming a tart. The other two didn't seem to have noticed that I had said "will", but I was already fantasising about what girl-on-girl-action might mean. I found myself licking my own dry lips. Tracy was looking at me with a quizzical eye.

'Don't worry, it's just a bit of fun. Come on I'll show you. Put some music on will you Oz?'

She sprang to her feet and held her hands out to haul me up. We stood there, me awkwardly, Tracy was still grasping my hands, and watched Mr J put on an LP. I had not seen it done since I was little, visiting elderly relatives. Tracy had probably never seen a radiogram before. He thumbed through a shelf full of old discs before selecting one with a satisfied grunt. He slipped the large black disc expertly from its paper sleeve and blew on it gently before impaling it on the silver spike at the centre of a rotating plattern. He dropped a delicate arm onto the spinning record. There were a few crackles before the sound of a big band boomed out of the speakers. Tracy placed her hands on my waist and started to sway in time with the music. Mr J sat down in an armchair next to the machine.

'You do the same.'

She nodded down at her own waist. I was significantly taller than she was in my heels so my hands touched her about the bottom of her rib cage. I could have sworn she quivered as I felt the warmth of her body through her thin shirt. She stood up on her toes to whisper in my ear. I could feel the heat of her breath as she did so.

'Take off the shoes. It'll be easier.'

I stood back and kicked my heels away before touching her once more. This time my hands fell more naturally on her waist. We smiled at each other a little diffidently. We were holding our arms straight out from the elbows. It reminded me of some of the school dances I attended as a fourteen-year-old. We both shuffled our weight from foot-to-foot in an awkward parody of a dance. I looked into Tracy's eyes and she winked at me.

'You have to get a bit closer. Pretend we're getting off on grinding our fannies together.'

She suddenly slipped one hand to the middle of my back and pulled me against her. I gasped at the quickness of it all. One of my own arms naturally moved around her back, I could feel a bra strap, and I rested the other gently on her shoulder. I became very aware of her larger breasts cushioning my own.

'That's the way. Just copy me.'

Our hips were touching and now as we swayed I could feel the pressure of her body against my Mons. As a teenager this had been my first experience of hard erections as perspiring boyfriends pushed themselves against me as we enjoyed a slow dance. This was different, all I could feel beneath out clothes was the hardness of another pubic bone. Tracy moved her hand over my arse and pulled me tighter against her.

'Closer. You do the same. Go on.'

She wriggled encouragement as I slowly moved my hand from her shoulder and down her body. I brushed against the side of her breast as I moved it down to her ample bum. The denim of her skirt felt rough against my hand, but her bottom was soft and surrendered easily when I pressed my palm against it. Tracy was obviously a stranger to the gym. It was only her youth which kept her plumpness from appearing flabby.