tagGroup SexLibby's New Car

Libby's New Car

byoldiethevoyeur©

A story for all the frustrated old men -- may your dreams come true

Edited by:- Linda62953

Libby's New Car

Chapter 1

James and Libby Thompson were getting ready for their evening appointment at the car dealership.

Libby had pestered and pestered him about buying her a car of her own. She was absolutely fed up with having to ride around all the time in her husband's 'functional' but usually dirty, SUV. Finally, after much discussion about the state of the planet; whether they actually needed two cars; what about the cost? Etcetera, etcetera, finally, she had managed to persuade him to buy her the car of her dreams.

Truth be told, James had had every intention of buying the car as a present for her in celebration of their fifth wedding anniversary coming up in a couple of days time. You can't give in all the time though can you? "Make her work for it," he had thought. Of course, her extra-special compliance in the bedroom department as she tried to influence his decision helped too...

James watched silently as his beautiful wife got dressed after having a shower. Suddenly he interrupted, "Not that top. The semi see-through one instead."

Libby glared at him as he lay on their bed smiling up at her, "You know damn well I never wear a bra you dirty bastard. Do you want every Tom, Dick or Harry to be able to see my tits?" she asked as she pulled the black cotton top she had had the intention of wearing back over her head. Her damp hair tumbled back down onto her bare shoulders as her unfettered breasts oscillated slightly before they settled back onto her chest.

She didn't actually need to wear a bra. Her wonderfully shaped young breasts were quite able to support themselves of their own accord. They enticingly swayed and rippled around like soft, set jelly under her tops whenever she moved her upper body. The two beautiful, dark brown-tipped, orbs were so naturally firm, hardly flattening at all whenever she laid on her back. Instead they stood like two prominent peaks of pleasure on the many occasions she reclined to receive her husband's body between her widespread thighs.

Shaking her head in amused resignation, Libby pulled the afore-mentioned sheer blouse from her wardrobe. It too, was black in color. With this one though, the shadows formed by her breasts as they moved around freely beneath the soft silk, inexorably drew the attention of anyone in the fortunate position of being able see her from the front. - If she didn't have anything else covering the diaphanous top of course.

"You do know that anyone will be able to see right through this if I open my coat don't you?" Libby mischievously enquired, "Or is that the intention?"

"Of course my darling, you shouldn't hide those beauties from view. The world deserves to see them." James mocked as he watched her pull her red mini-skirt over her bare buttocks. The string of her black silk thong seemed to peep at him between her pear-shaped cheeks as she bent over to put her high-heeled shoes on. 'Fucking hell that's sexy' the horny husband thought to himself as he ogled his teasing wife.

A few minutes later, the happy couple left the house. Libby had grabbed her red leather jacket from the rack in the hallway as they passed through; covering her wobbling breasts as she quickly donned it. She then joined her husband in the SUV, displaying a long length of bare thigh to his always-interested gaze as she cocked her leg into the cabin and pulled herself up onto the seat.

"I don't see why I couldn't just wear my jeans and a t-shirt," she protested, "Just what are you up to?"

Smiling smugly, James winked at his wife, "You'll see."

As he drove out of their drive, James casually placed his hand on Libby's exposed thigh. Softly he ran his fingers upwards until they met the black silk of the minuscule panties that barely covered the smooth mound of her freshly shaved pudendum.

Libby automatically spread her legs wide as her body unwittingly allowed her husband access. Gently stroking her aroused clitoris, he glanced across at his wife, noting with satisfaction her eyes were closed and her bright-red lips parted in response to her sexual arousal. Her brilliant white teeth were clenched as her jaw tightened with her futile attempt of trying to resist the orgasm slowly creeping up on her.

"Oh yes, my darling, You'll see," the devious husband thought to himself as he infuriatingly removed his prying fingers and concentrated on the road ahead.

"You are such an evil bastard." Libby gasped.

The frustrated wife pulled her short skirt down as far as she could, attempting to cover her now very wet panties.

"Dirty fucker!" she hissed quietly at her husband.

"Slut!" he laughingly replied.

Chapter 2

John Clayton was his usual grumpy 'Saturday' self. He hated his job. He especially hated his job at weekends.

He could, and should, be spending his time much more productively playing golf, one of his two big passions in life. He could even, God forbid, be spending some time with his wife. Actually, that would never happen.

It was her fault entirely that he was still working at all, never-mind having to work six days a fucking week in that crappy car-salesman's job he had had to take in order to pay their mortgage. The mortgage they had had to take out after she had insisted on them moving home in their mid-fifties to a more expensive house. Leaving the home they had lived in most of their married life, the home that was totally paid for and mortgage free. Leaving the home he loved, that was next door to a lovely municipal golf course. Just to move to a 'beautiful country cottage' that was her fucking dream not his. Yes, he hated his job, hated his whole life, and, truth be told, probably hated his fucking wife too...

***

The 63 year old, slightly overweight specimen of a frustrated rock star was a typically sad example of an old man just playing out time before his retirement. He was bored with his job, bored with his life, and especially bored with his wife Fiona. She was a 65-year-old bundle of "joy" packed into a body that was at least 50 pounds overweight and as sexually unattractive as a woman could be to her husband of 40 years.

He was a weak man. He knew damn well he was a weak man. Always willing to settle for the status-quo, he had never in his whole life pushed the boat out and done something daring and spontaneous; never done anything to change his mundane way of life. He knew damn well he should have divorced his wife years ago; found himself another woman more in tune with his needs; left the woman who had dragged him meekly down to her own level of mediocrity.

Knowing he should have done it and actually doing it? Now that was the crux of the matter. In truth, he was scared. He had had a roving eye for years, slowly turning into a dirty old voyeur as his own sex-life deteriorated. He nowadays got his kicks from looking at any woman who happened to flash a bit of flesh. Damn! He had even spent so many hours on the internet looking at porn he was actually bored with that too.

Not particularly attractive, but not ugly either, he had had a couple of flings earlier in his marriage. Once, many years ago now, he had even had a five-year long affair with the plain, much older, secretary he had had in his job as a mid-level company accountant. On several other occasions he had had short term relationships with a few women who were desperate enough to put up with his cranky attitude and miserable ways, - for a short while anyway. Until they inevitably got bored of him too, of course.

Not recently though. The last ten years or more had been so...well...fucking horrendous was the word. He couldn't actually remember the last time he had had any kind of sex that didn't involve contact with his right hand. Even the need for that had almost dried up to a couple of times a week when she was in bed upstairs. Basically, his problem was that he was scared. Frightened of upsetting the apple cart, he worried about what might happen to him if he actually did do something about his shit existence. Instead of taking a chance like any real man would, he had submissively settled for the boring, mundane, comfortable life he now reluctantly led.

* * *

John didn't really know how old age had galloped up on them so quickly. They had been reduced to an over-the-hill married couple stagnating their way through later life. Hardly communicating at all, they barely even spoke to each other whenever their paths crossed at the boring little "chocolate-box" cottage she-who-must-be-obeyed had insisted on moving to when their only child had left home. John fucking hated that place too. It wasn't him. He was a frustrated rock-star. He should have been living it up in drug-fuelled debauchery like his heroes the Stones. Not decaying into senility, old before his time. Waiting for the blessed relief of Alzheimer's or whatever, to claim his mind before he finally disintegrated into the decrepit old man his father had turned into before his death at the relatively early age of 68.

It was sad really. Fiona had been such a lovely girl when they first met. Vivacious, life and soul of the party, always giggling and laughing whenever they were together. What the fuck had happened to her? To him? They had had so much going for them when they were young. Now look at them. Two boring old farts who would be more suited to playing fucking bingo than listening to his beloved rock music. That was the one pleasure in life he was allowed, but only after she had gone to her bed religiously at 9:30pm, no matter what the time of year.

They didn't even share a marital bed nowadays. She had the main bedroom, with its own en-suite of course. He, her frustrated old lump of a husband, he had to sleep in the spare room at the other end of the upstairs landing, well out of harm's way.

She would go upstairs, shower, clean her teeth, and brush her hair. Always the same fucking routine. Always the same sort of passion-killing fucking nightdress. Hiding her body from his view, even if he had wanted to fucking look at it. She would close her bedroom's heavy-duty blackout curtains, denying any late evening summer sunshine the chance of illuminating her dull life as she attempted to completely block off the rest of the world.

All the while, he would be left downstairs with his headphones and glass of cheap scotch, trying to obliterate the ghastly reality that was his shit existence.

***

John had always been frustrated with their sex life. Fiona had appeared to enjoy it at first, although she would never admit it or even talk about it. Instead, she would get embarrassed and tongue-tied whenever he brought the subject up. It was always a struggle to get her to let go enough to have an orgasm whenever they were making love, (they never fucked, she hated that word).

She would never be completely nude, her ever-present nightdress covering her chest. The flannelette garment would be rolled up to her waist, exposing just enough of her for her to be able to fulfil her 'wifely duties'. She would just lay back, always in the socially acceptable missionary position, as he gently pushed his invasive penis into her barely moist vagina. Very occasionally, her legs would unwittingly wrap around his thighs as he penetrated her, her body betraying her mind as it subconsciously got excited by their coupling. Most times though, she would just suffer in silence as she allowed her husband use of her body to satisfy his carnal needs.

At first he had thought, maybe she was just shy and reserved, blaming her attitude on her upbringing by her strictly religious Catholic parents. Their attitude to sex was that the act of fornication was for procreation only, definitely not for recreation, (only degenerate people got pleasure from such an animalistic act in their opinion). They passed those narrow-minded views onto their only child, a beautiful daughter who had a body just made for mind-blowing, sloppy, messy sex...

Once their son, John junior, had been born, John and Fiona's sex-life disintegrated even further. Admittedly, she had had a difficult pregnancy; her morning sickness seemed to last through the whole 9 months of her gestation period causing them both huge distresses. After the birth though, that was virtually it as far as sex with her husband was concerned. She had performed her wifely duties. She had produced the heir society decreed was her role in life. Now she didn't have to accept her husband's frequent and unwelcome demands for sexual gratification any longer.

John had been unable to tempt her into regular lovemaking. Any effort to persuade her to accept her sexuality fell on deaf ears as she sank back into her repressed childhood beliefs. The thought of getting pleasure alone from the act without the intention of pregnancy never even crossed her mind as she virtually became celibate. Her husband rarely even got a glimpse of her nude body never-mind had access to her womanly charms. Instead, their sex life slowly diminished if that was at all possible. Once a fortnight gradually became once a month, then just the odd occasion. - When he could persuade her.

Eventually it became twice a year. On his birthday and New Year's Eve. Very rarely was she persuaded to allow him to use her body. Only after several days of whining and moaning on his part.

Of course, this deprivation of his sexual needs led John to become a bitter, frustrated old man who invariably took those frustrations out on anyone who crossed his path, getting him the reputation amongst those who were acquainted with him as a "Grumpy Old Twat"...

* * *

They had even celebrated their Ruby wedding anniversary apart earlier this year. Instead of a night that should have been a family celebration, Fiona had a meal at their son and his civil partner's house, while John was out on his own having probably the best night of his life that didn't involve sex. He had been watching his revered Mick and the boys playing Hyde Park over 40 years after he had first seen them there. Now that was a night to remember in his old age.

Of course, John Jr. just had to have turned out to be gay. Not that his father had anything against being gay, get it where you can was his opinion. "Maybe I should even try it myself," he had occasionally thought, during his extended periods of sexual abstinence, desperate for any sort of carnal release as he was.

No, it was just that, along with everything else that was wrong with his marriage, John would never get to be the loving grandfather he had had himself as a small boy. Anyway, each to his own was his liberal attitude towards his son.

***

Why they were still together totally baffled anyone who knew the couple. It baffled John himself too. Why had he stuck with such a prudish, frigid woman all those years? He had loved her at first of course, but that love had long since died, (together with his sex-life) leaving him frustrated and lonely.

That is what frightened him the most, being alone in his old age like his father had been after his mother had died of breast cancer at the age of 58. He had watched his dad turn into an old man way before his time. Giving up on life rather than fight for it, like he should have done. No, bad as it was, his marriage at least meant he always had someone to come home to.

Overall, grumpy John's life hadn't turned out to be the bed of roses he had envisaged when he first met his future wife all those years ago.

***

Hopefully though, this evening may be a little better than the norm. With a touch of good fortune, he may just get a chance to indulge his voyeuristic tendencies a little. The wife of the couple that he was staying late to meet was truly stunning.

He had seen her a few days before when they first came into the showroom to enquire about purchasing a CLK 320 for her. John was almost certain that the woman had not been wearing a bra. Her gorgeous breasts seemed to sway deliberately in front of him as he tried to concentrate on talking with her husband about the car. Beautiful as they were, they totally mesmerised the salesman with their hypnotic movement under her thin pale-green coloured top as the woman moved gracefully around the vehicle.

He even thought he might have glimpsed a shadowy peek of hard, brown nipple as she leaned forward to adjust the car seat. Her skirt had ridden up then also, exposing her firm, lightly tanned thighs to his leering gaze as he leaned into the car to show her where the seat-adjustment switch was.

Yes, he was actually quite looking forward to seeing her again. Maybe getting another sneaky look at her beautiful titties. Maybe even seeing her knickers, if she was wearing a skirt. The car seat was very low after all...

Chapter 3

The married couple's SUV pulled into the almost deserted garage forecourt. They were both very eager to get there, their excitement building during the short journey from their home. Hers for the obvious reason of finally getting her own car. But his? James was anticipating far more fun than just buying a car...

It was late, just before the normal closing time. The garage showroom was just about empty, most of the sales staff having already dashed off to whatever they had planned for their Saturday night's entertainment. The sales manger, John Clayton, was waiting for them in his office. Impatiently, he had been checking the clock every few minutes, staring at the CCTV monitors mounted on his office wall.

"Finally," he muttered to himself as he saw his customers' car drive up and went out to greet them. "At Fucking Last..."

***

James had arranged with the salesman to meet at that time of day deliberately. For his devious plan to work without fear of anyone discovering what was going on, the three of them had to be the only ones still there.

The salesman dismally failed to hide the fact that he was trying to peek down Libby's loose-fitting top as he showed the couple around their intended purchase. James smiled smugly to himself as he frequently observed the old guy staring at her unfettered, bra-less tits... Swinging about provocatively as they were...

Libby, for her part, unwittingly played her role to perfection. Frequently bending and twisting her body into positions that enabled the voyeuristic older man to get tantalising glimpses of her almost naked breasts. The see-through blouse occasionally gaped open to reveal the hard tip of one, or both, of her womanly charms to her grateful audience as she reached for some switch or knob to examine.

James, of course, was completely aware of what the salesman was doing and what the lecherous old sod was able to see as he craned his neck ever more blatantly to get a better view. Smirking secretly to himself, the husband followed the salesman into his office to begin negotiations about the purchase of his wife's dream car.

During those negotiations, the flush-faced salesman was obviously distracted by the young wife sitting in front of him. She was displaying the carefree abandon with regard to displaying her body he jealously wished his own 65-year-old wife had done during their marriage. However, he was absolutely astonished, as was the embarrassed Libby, when James suddenly asked him.

"I notice you have been trying to grab a look at my wife's breasts Mr. Clayton. Just how much discount may we have if she shows you what you have been trying to see?"

John Clayton gasped audibly as he slumped back into his chair.

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