Indescretion - Once More

This is the 3rd part of this story. A divorcee struggling to rebuild her life after her husband betrayed her. In the first part, her frustrations about her husband and her failure to find a new sexual partner of a suitable age. Cause her to do something reckless and seduce an 18-year-old in a charity shop.

In the second part, she accidentally becomes involved with a young builder redecorating her deceased aunt's house. Until they are discovered by his uncle, his boss, and he joins in.

Indiscretion - once more

Following my experience with the handsome young builder and his uncle, I daydreamed about sex a lot. It wasn't intentional, it could be almost anything that set me off.

I could be at the coffee shop, queuing for my daily coffee. Find myself eyeing up the baristas or other male customers. Or I'd be pushing my cart around the supermarket and find myself wondering what the male customers looked like naked.

However, it came to a head when I visited my dentist for a checkup. He was in his early thirties and very polite and gentle. He always took his implements from my mouth, after asking a question, so I could answer it easier. I was already in the chair before I noticed his assistant wasn't the usual pretty young woman, but a handsome young man in his early twenties.

He clipped a clear plastic bib over my chest and offered me eye protection. To protect me from splashes or stray material. But today I was only there for a checkup, a descale and polish. As usual, I kept my eyes closed as I'm ‌squeamish over seeing what tools the dentist used.

After several minutes, the dentist asked me something, and I opened my eyes as I replied. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the assistant wasn't paying attention to my mouth. Instead, he made no attempt to disguise that he was looking at my chest.

I suddenly realised I was used to a paper towel to cover my chest in the dentist's chair. To stop any stray water or detritus from staining my clothing. And as such, I'd not considered what blouse I'd worn that day. I'd worn a blouse with a deeper cleavage than usual, as I felt it would make me feel sexier. Getting a little attention made me feel better about myself.

However, I wasn't sure about this much attention. The dentist cleared his throat and his assistant realised he'd been staring. I quickly closed my eyes to mere slits and watched as the assistant mouthed an apology. The dentist shrugged and took a long look at my chest. He waggled his eyebrows and returned to work.

The problem was that after two men ogled me like that; I was turned on, even if it was inappropriate. But it had been my choice to wear this blouse to get some male appreciation. With my eyes closed, I tried to command my nipples not to respond, but I could feel them pressing against my bra despite my efforts.

I could imagine both men watching them appear through my blouse and I felt more turned on. Then I imagined the dentist using an entirely different type of tool in my mouth, whilst his younger assistant raised my skirt and went down on me. Damn, I was getting wet and worried that they might detect the scent.

But I couldn't seem to stop it as my fantasy moved on to the assistant fucking me in the dentist's chair. Whilst his boss received the best blow job I could manage. I was tempted to cut the appointment short, claiming I was feeling ill or something. Fortunately, it was only a short appointment and a few minutes later, I almost fled the building. I got the distinct impression that both men would have welcomed me staying longer.

In the car, I adjusted my rear-view mirror to try to gauge just what the pair had managed to see down the front of my blouse. Which earned me a few odd expressions from people walking by. As I drove home, I swore to myself and blamed my out-of-control libido on those bloody dirty magazines I'd retrieved from my uncle's house before it was sold.

I'd found a few vintage smut magazines around the house and an old leather suitcase up in the attic, filled with magazines dating from the 60s to the 90s. I blamed most of my encounter with the young man in the charity shop, and then with the young builder and his uncle upon those magazines. It was still a struggled to believe that I'd had sex with both of them at the same time.

When I got home, I took the suitcase from where I'd hidden it in my bedroom and put it in the tiny loft. Before I'd looked at the magazines, I'd never considered sex with more than one partner at a time. That seemed to creep into my fantasies more and more often, and it wasn't something I planned on doing again. I'd enjoyed it a lot, but it felt like a very slippery slope to indulge.

But it didn't stop me from reliving the fantasy at the dentist's again, only this time with my fingers buried inside me. It felt superb, but I knew I'd feel a little weird the next time I saw the pair. I also realised I needed to talk to my friends again and ask them to help me find a boyfriend. Sex with myself was never as good as having someone else do it with you.

However, before I could do much about it, another issue came up.

The house I'd bought after my divorce was a modern take on old-fashioned terraced housing. Designed for first-time buyers or retired couples, it was a two up and two down, one bedroom place that was built next to a river. Something I'd liked at the time, but in October we'd been having a very wet autumn. One that saw me on a Friday morning sipping my breakfast coffee and listening to the local radio station.

They reported a flood warning in the area and my heart sank as they mentioned my road specifically. Slipping a raincoat over my dressing gown, I stepped out of the back door and looked at the river. You couldn't see the water, but I could hear it a lot louder than usual. A few steps towards the river down the short garden revealed the water barreling by and at least a foot higher than usual. As I returned to my home, I saw my elderly neighbour watching me from his back door.

"It's worrying isn't it?" I nodded. "Not a lot we can do but prepare, just in case."

"Prepare?"

"Move whatever you can upstairs. We may not be able to stop it, but insurance companies are a lot more reasonable if you can show you try to reduce the damage. Believe me, I know from experience."

I phoned my boss at home and told him about the situation. He's a sweet older man who has a bit of a thing about me, and I'd shamelessly used that by wearing low-cut blouses at work to ensure he liked me. The fact I'd liked it as well isn't the point.

It took until 1 pm to empty all my under-counter cupboards in the kitchen and pile everything onto the surfaces. Effectively making it unusable for cooking. I took a break and slipped my raincoat back on, then walked down the road to the bridge over the river. What I saw made my heart sink. The river had risen and the house at the end of the terrace already had the water lapping at the level of their garden.

There were still a couple of feet of river wall visible at my home, but I doubted I'd be safe. Back at home, I called my mother to fill her in on the situation. For once, she was quite supportive and suggested that rather than wait in anticipation, that I should come and visit for the weekend. Of course, she spoiled it somewhat when she added needed my help with something.

Still, she had a point. Sitting around or staring out the back window watching the water creeping towards the house would be heartbreaking.

I resumed moving things around, but most of the stuff in my lounge was either too big or higher up on the walls. That the flood water wouldn't likely reach it. A knock at my door startled me and I opened it to find council work men wearing hi-vis jackets over heavy waterproof suits.

They were there to provide sandbags to help with any possible flooding. Two or three traipsed back and forth, carrying heavy sandbags from a vehicle on the road and piling them outside the back door. Under normal circumstances, I'd have complained about the mess on the carpet, but this wasn't normal.

One of the workmen stayed outside the back door to pile up the bags. Another asked if there was anything he could help to move for me. It was only as he asked that I realised that I'd not got dressed yet and had spent all day in my nightgown and robe. The robe had loosened, and he was a tall man. When he stood close, he got quite a view of my cleavage. I felt a little tingle of excitement.

Unfortunately, nothing I had in the lounge was small enough to get up the stairs and there wasn't any space in my bedroom. He gestured to the utility cupboard under the stairs and I nearly slapped my forehead. I'd forgotten about my ironing board and vacuum. He grinned and helped me carry them upstairs.

I saw him sneaking a peek into my bedroom and, for a moment; I imagined showing my appreciation for his help. Inviting him in and pleasuring him with my mouth. A wave of excitement flooded my pussy. I knew I wouldn't do it, but it was exciting to think about it. And that led me to fantasise about the other men forming a queue for their turn. Fortunately, one of the others called out from downstairs that they needed to move on. He shrugged and wished me luck in not getting flooded.

Around 4 pm, I packed an overnight bag and headed out to my car. The rain was torrential, and I drove to get onto the motorway to head to my mothers. However, within minutes, I felt I'd made a mistake. Even with my wipers at their fastest speed, I was struggling to see where I was going, and other vehicles shot past me as if there was nothing wrong.

With lorries overtaking me because I was going slower than everyone else, I got off the motorway as quickly as possible. I was confident I'd get to my mother's via the back roads instead of the motorway. A confidence I quickly came to regret.

Don't paint me with the 'typical women driver' brush. But I'd challenge anyone not to struggle on unfamiliar roads. In the dark, with appalling visibility and seemingly reckless fellow drivers. People who seemed oblivious to the poor conditions. So when I found myself away from other traffic, I started to relax. Partially, because the rain was starting to ease off a little.

I found myself eventually on a winding country road. On the plus side, it was wide and well maintained. On the negative side was that I'd been driving down it for more than half an hour without seeing another vehicle. It was finally time to admit I was lost and was looking for anything that might give me a clue where I was.

As I rounded a corner, I spotted an illuminated sign at the side of the road, and I slowed to read it. 'Greenday Camp site' was all I , despite my slow speed. If I didn't see anything better shortly, I'd pull over and phone someone to figure out where I was and how to get to my mothers. Hell, at this rate I'd accept directions back to my home, even if it was flooded.

Over the hedge, I saw the outline of a number of caravans on the campsite. The first one had light showing through all the windows. For a moment, I wondered if I should stop and ask for help. But I'd taken my eyes off the road for a little too long. Ahead of me seemed to be a sea of water filling the road.

I stamped on the brakes, and the car skidded badly. Badly enough that the rear passenger side wheel clipped the curb with a scraping metallic sound. My heart was pounding, and I didn't notice when the car stalled, as I'd not hit the clutch when I'd hit the brake. Praying that I'd not damaged the wheel or got a flat tyre. I knew how to change a wheel if I had to, but that had been once, in daylight, and with my dad looking over my shoulder.

As my heart rate slowed down, I looked at what had caused my rash action. The road ahead was flooded for as far as I could see, but the headlights were skewed after my skid. Restarting the car and inching forward, sighing in relief that the wheel and tyre seemed ok. I crept forward until the car was pointing down the road. Even after such a short time without the engine running, the car was steaming up.

Winding down the window, I slipped my head out and studied the road ahead as the rain drops gathered on my glasses. The flooded area was about 100 yards long and seemed to be caused by excess water pouring off the farmland on my side of the road. White rushing water through an entrance to a field about 50 yards ahead, overpowering whatever drainage there was.

My eyes followed the edge of the curb. I saw that the water gradually swallowed the pavement over about 30 yards and, given the road up until now, had been pretty level; I had to assume it wasn't that deep. I slipped off my seat belt and pulled my phone from my jeans pockets to call my dad, but there was no signal at all.

With some prescience, I slipped it into my rain coat's chest pocket and zipped it away. I'd have to decide if I should try to ford the water by myself. I was fairly sure it wasn't that deep. I'd seen enough videos on the internet to know that if I tried. Not too fast or I might flood the engine and not too slow as to stall.

Praying I was doing the correct thing, I drove slowly forward. Aiming for the middle of the road to make use of the camber to keep to the shallower water. Keeping to a walking speed, I entered the water. As I neared the middle, I stuck my head out of the window to check how deep the water was.

It was alarming to find the water was deep enough to come part way up the door and I hoped the door seals would keep it out. Again, I was distracted when the car shuddered and stopped instantly. I was thrown against the seatbelt and looked through the windscreen, horrified that I might have hit something. But I saw nothing on the road ahead of me.

It took a moment for my mind to realise something wasn't right. The engine was still running, and it was still in gear, but I wasn't moving. The front of the car on the driver's side was lower than the other and that headlight was dimmer. I didn't know how, but that meant the water was covering at least part of the headlight.

On reflex, I put the car into reverse and revved the engine, but nothing happened. Had I somehow lost a wheel? It had been the back wheel on the other side that I'd clipped the curb with. A trickling sound caught my ear, and I turned on the cabin light to see water seeping into the footwell. Fuck! A friend worked for an insurance company and she'd told me they almost always write-off a car if the interior was flooded. That was the last thing I needed, was to have to replace the car.

In frustration, I lashed out and punched the steering wheel over and over again. The honk of the horn saved me from swearing out loud. At least for the first 7 times. On the 8th, the engine cut out, and I was plunged into darkness. Shit! The water must have got to the electrics and shorted out.

Now what was I going to do? Stuck in the middle of nowhere and without a way to call for help. Was I going to‌traipse around until I got a signal or found someone else?

"You OK?" a male voice came through the window and I jumped. Too wrapped up in my own thoughts to hear him coming.

Twisting around, I saw a man approaching the car with a camping lamp held high in front of him.

"I suspect the flooding lifted a manhole cover, and you drove into the hole in the flood." Well, that explained it then, not that it helped.

"You ok?" he repeated, and I shaded my eyes from the lamp before replying.

"Yeah, sort of. I'm not hurt, if that's what you mean." I unfastened my seatbelt and tried to open the door, but it didn't move.

I panicked a little, but he explained.

"It's the pressure difference of the water outside."

"So what am I supposed to do? Sit here and wait for the car to flood?" I replied, rather snippy. "Sorry, I didn't mean for it to sound like that. But how do I get out?"

"The window?" He suggested.

Once he said it, it was obvious. Twisting around to kneel on the seat, I put my head through my window and held out a hand for his support. He came closer and took my arm as I pushed my shoulders and torso through the window. The problem then came as I tried to get my legs through, and I had to rely on his strength to hold me and pull me through the windows.

As my knees came through, I fell into the water, only this stranger stopping me from being fully submerged. Clambering to my feet, I felt the cold water pouring off my soaked clothing. I must have been immersed up to my ribs in the floodwater and I shivered automatically as the cold bit deep.

"Thanks. That wasn't very ladylike, was it?" I introduced myself, and he told me he was David and heard the horn from his caravan.

"Let's get out of this water." He suggested, and I looked back at the car and reached in to grab the now useless keys.

We waded out of the water and back to the campsite gate. Luckily, there was a gravel path just inside the field that ran along the hedge towards the caravans. The lights from David's caravan are a very welcome sight and fortunately the path dog legged to stop at his door.

He opened the door, only for the doorway to be filled by a bouncy Jack Russell puppy.

"Hey Dash! Calm down." David said and ruffled the dog's head, then set the lamp on the floor inside the door.

He reached past the dog and grabbed a roll of bin bags, tearing one off. David pulled out a plastic box from under the caravan and he took off his boots and socks to put in the box. As he slipped off his jeans, I worried about what he was up to. He saw the look and explained.

"I don't want to be funny, but I'd rather not have that water inside the caravan. It's not exactly spring water." As I lifted the bottom of my sweatshirt and pulled it towards my nose.

Let's just say there was a certain farm yard component of the water that I'd not noticed until now. The idea of that on my clothes and on my skin appalled me, and I stripped off completely in revulsion.

"I'll whack the heating up and get you a towel to dry off and cover up." He said as he stuffed his jeans into the bin bag, then stepped up into the caravan.

I got a quick view of his white underpants before he moved out of sight. Quickly shedding my shoes and socks, I added them to the box and slid it under the caravan again. David handed me a towel.

Moving away from the door for privacy, I stripped off my jeans and added them to the bag. After a moment's hesitation and a check that David wasn't looking through the door or the windows, I added my underwear to the bag. Standing soaked to the skin and bottomless in a field was not something I'd expected to be doing today, or any day really.

My sweat shirt was wet up to my navel, so I tried to wring it out as best I could. I was about to take it off when I realised that the towel would cover my top half or my bottom, but not both. So I left the sweatshirt on and dried myself before covering up my lower bits.

"Tea ok?" David asked, standing at the stove putting a kettle on the gas.

The Jack Russell puppy rushed towards me to give me a playful sniff as I tried to step into the caravan. The step from the ground was higher than expected and I needed to grab the handrails on either side of the door to pull myself up.

"Leave her alone, Dash!" He turned to look at the dog, but his eyes went wide as he saw me pull myself into the caravan.

I was just praying that the towel around my waist didn't fall away. But I couldn't do anything about how widely it gaped with one foot on the ground and the other on the step. A frisson of excitement passed through me as David stared at my rather exposed legs. I was proud of my body and it was always nice to garner some attention from a young man.

"I'd have taken off this sweatshirt, but the towel only covers so much." I explained.

"Oh, right. Let's get you something to wear." He moved towards the front of the caravan, and not knowing better, I followed him into the bedroom.