Mrs. Templeton's Secrets

"I know, it's only natural, don't be embarrassed. "Tell me, opening her legs a little. I rarely wear panties when the weather is like this and I was never one for shaving."

His focus was now between her legs.

"If you want me to open my legs further you must ask."

"Yes, I want to see," waiting for her to respond. When she didn't, he realised he hadn't said the right words. "I want you to open your legs wide, please, aunty Nancy."

"You're a wicked boy, what are you?"

"A wicked boy, aunt Nancy."

She opened her legs and placed one each side of the chair. "I have so much hair down there, I don't think you can see much."

"I can see it, I can see it all, I didn't realise... Oh, aunty, I feel strange."

She parted the sides of her vagina and pulled her hair to the sides. "See how red and wet it is inside. You must have thought what it looked like and now you know. Is it like you thought?"

"Better, much better, it's beautiful."

"I was thinking of shaving some of the hair, what do you think?"

"It's perfect, perfect and beautiful."

"I've said uncle John will be a while, would you like to make another little secret before he gets back?"

"I would like us to have loads of secrets."

"You've seen what I've got, it's your turn now, it's only fair, isn't it?"

He undid his zip, pulled down his shorts and exposed his manhood, hard and erect.

"It looks angry."

"It goes like that sometimes."

John had been circumcised but Phil hadn't. His penis was only the second one she'd seen and it was different to her husband's; thicker, longer, discharging precum and, from the way it looked, he was but a moment away from orgasm. "Does it hurt being that hard?"

"Sometimes," he mumbled.

"What do you do to take the hurt away? Show me."

"I don't know, aunty Nancy."

"Hold it, don't be embarrassed, watch me," and she circled her finger around her clitoris, occasionally placing her fingers inside herself.

Phil's face tightened. He leaned back and began to move his foreskin while watching what his aunty was doing.

"You are so wicked, Phil," just watching, she was in rapture. "A little faster for aunty, faster again, that's better."

"I'm thinking of you, aunty Nancy. It's happening, aunty, aunty, oh yes, it's coming," he shouted, as his sperm shot and fell back over his hand and penis."

"Don't stop, I like to watch, carry on doing what you are doing," she shouted. "You are such a naughty boy," as she fell into her second orgasm. The sight of watching Phil playing with himself while she did the same locked as pure delight into her mind. The eroticism of the moment palpable. This was for real. She could never have imagined the intensity of feeling which coursed through every fibre of her body, better than her most colourful fantasies. The thrill, depravity and wickedness of what they did, blew her deeper into wanting more, a lot more. She was on a journey to explore all that sex could give her. She pulled her skirt down and buttoned her blouse. "Go to the bathroom and clean yourself while I make us a cup of tea."

"I like making secrets, can we do that again, aunty Nancy?" He said when he returned.

"It's very wicked so we'll have to see. No one must ever know or we'll be in real trouble. It must be our secret and our secret only, not even your best friend must know, even a rumour could undo us, so no loose talk."

"I know, and I won't. Do you do that with uncle John?"

"Uncle John isn't that wicked."

"I like being wicked."

"We both do but we can only do it when it's safe."

When John returned, Phil was gone but Nancy was still sexually charged and tried to get him interested but he was tired and she helped him upstairs. She waited until he was asleep and went into the parlour to relieve her body from the charge which had built into a mountain of lust after Phil went, imagining him erupting his orgasm into her, fuelling her own and would make it happen no matter what the consequence.

Nancy's euphoria of yesterday had receded, replaced with guilt. She masturbated in front of a nineteen-year-old and watched as he did the same. She had long crossed the line of decorum and had lost her grip on reality so why was she feeling so alive and with a wanton desire to experience more of the same. How could she do those things and still love her husband? Was she in the throes of a mental breakdown but didn't realise it or was she a latent nymphomaniac? The image of them together kept pushing into her mind. The harder she tried to push it away, the harder it returned.

She was on a carousel and couldn't get off, her body wouldn't let her. Crying in the kitchen, she heard a knock at the window, Joan was outside the backdoor gesturing for her to open it.

"Why are you still locking your door in the day? I've been asking about and no one has been burgled." Seeing her smudged face she asked what was wrong.

She could hardly say she had been highly aroused watching her son masturbate while she did the same. The guilt had gotten to her but she still wanted to do it again, throwing her value and sense of propriety into the bin. "John - I shouldn't moan, you're in the same frame - some days he stays in bed and hardly talks to me, other times he makes an effort but it never lasts. I know it's not his fault but... I'm so lonely, Joan, I feel like screaming.

"John's illness has changed me. He used to control everything and gave me only enough money to manage the household, plus a little for me to spend on myself, everything else he managed and organised. Since he can no longer do those things, it now falls on me to do them. At first, I was terrified but it forced me to be more independent and I liked it; no, I love the extra responsibility but it has changed me and made me realise how dependent I'd become on him. He told me what clothes to buy, how to do my hair, never liked me going out without him so I never did. I know he loves me but seeing where I was before and where I am now, John was the master and I the servant, equality in our relationship was something he couldn't handle and even now he finds it difficult when I say he needs to do something, accusing me of trying to control him now he's ill."

"You still love him, don't you?"

"Of course I still love him, I'm not saying I don't love him. He's always been there for me and I feel so disloyal for feeling the way I do but I can't help it. John is a man's man and has controlled every aspect of our sex life, believing a woman shouldn't say what she wants in bed only accept what the man wants without complaint. He's never been one to cuddle or experiment sexually and it's not going to change."

"You've never minded before. What brought all this on? Something must have happened, I've never seen you so dissatisfied."

"My blinkers have dropped. That's what has happened. I need more freedom, more control over my life."

"You are not thinking of having an affair, are you?"

That hit home to the knuckle. "I don't know, I don't know anything anymore."

"You'll break John's heart if you do. Look, my sex life sucks and I've thought about it but there is no way of keeping it quiet and then you are branded. Daisy is still in the hole, half of the village don't speak to her, the other half are polite to her face but snigger behind her back."

"If you thought you could get away with a short term affair, would you do it?"

"Would I do it? You sure know how to put a girl on the spot. "If it was iron tight I might; God, I've thought about it enough but no one can guarantee it'll stay hidden so I don't think I would take a chance. I have too much to lose and what would the children think? Morally it's wrong on so many levels. If John or my David found out, ill or not, they'd soon have us out of the house."

Joan mentioning morality angered Nancy. "We are both getting nothing from our husbands," she snapped. "Don't you think we owe it to ourselves to have a little fun. It has strengthened Winifred's marriage. Since Dale suspected something was going on at Daisy's, he hasn't once been to the pub and has cut back on working overtime. I've even heard he's brought her flowers a few times and taken her out for the occasional meal. He must also be doing his bit in the bedroom, I've never seen Winifred looking so contented."

"That's different, Dale neglected her for years and has responded to a wake-up call. You can't say that about our husbands and it's not their fault they can't perform in the bedroom."

"Come on Joan, I know you weren't happy with David when he was at his best. We've discussed it enough. I was the one who said you are making too much of it but I was wrong. There's a lot more to it than what we've settled for in the past."

"It's all those books you're reading, isn't it?"

"You should read them, it'll open your eyes to what we've missed."

"We always have these," moving her fingers, "and our hairbrushes, they'll never let us down," Joan giggled. "Anyway, let's leave it. I knew what I was going to mention, how is Phil doing with the shed and garden?"

"I'm very happy with him," the equivocation lost on Joan. "John hasn't said anything so he must be the same but he's always so morose. The only one to get him smiling is Phil. Nothing I do seems to satisfy him. When I pay the bills, I do it wrong; when I put out the waste for collection, it's in the wrong place, when I clean the house, I make too much noise. He's irrevocably demanding and getting worse. I have started exerting myself and he doesn't like it. If I didn't like something, I should have been more vocal from the start. I should have sat him down and discussed it instead of falling in line with what he wanted and always agreeing with him."

"It's not John, blame it on his illness."

"I keep telling myself that but with my newfound clarity, he's always been the same. I refuse to be his duster and be thrown around according to his will. There are some things I need for me, and by damn, I'm going to take them."

"Just be careful, John is ill like my David and we don't know how long we'll have them and we should treasure every moment. Don't do anything rash."

After Joan left, Nancy reflected on their discussion, deciding to keep the boat in calm waters and carry on as normal. Phil was short term; eventually, he'd find a girlfriend and be gone but in the meantime, they could learn from each other. She was just as naive as he so it would benefit them both and, when it was over, he'd take what he learned into his marriage. When the desire was there, justification can always be found for the most bizarre and make it sound reasonable.

John's better health didn't last, night times being the worse. He coughed throughout the night, Nancy having to go to him numerous times. Alone in the next room, she cried quietly into her pillow. The black death was deep in his lungs, had taken many a collier in the past and it would soon be John's turn. She should cherish every day she had with him and not think about having sex with another man.

She hadn't seen Phil for six days, his exams were near and he spent his time studying. On Saturday afternoon, when Nancy returned from shopping, Phil was in the garden working. John was sitting outside watching him work, talking and laughing. She so wished her boys were there as well but John was always so critical of them; with Phil, he was the opposite.

When Phil saw her he came running up and pecked her on the cheek, saying he'd helped uncle John with the stairs as he wanted to sit in the sun. She went to John, smiled and kissed him, asking if he felt better. He smiled back but there was no warmth behind it, but that was John and she left to make them sandwiches and tea.

Phil was in his shorts, his body tanned; Nancy had to look away. The sight of his body was fuelling her arousal, the ache between her legs growing more intense with every passing minute. By 4 pm, John asked to be taken to bed. Phil looked at her, his meaning obvious, he wanted to share more secrets. She understood and winked at him.

Returning, Phil sat at the kitchen table, Nancy seated the other end. "You've worked hard today, uncle John enjoyed himself."

"We've been chatting all afternoon while I work, I like talking to him. He looked away, swallowed and turned to face her. "Aunty Nancy, can we make more secrets?"

She gave a veiled smile as if thinking about it. She'd been waiting for this all afternoon and wanted to savour the look on his face. She had taken off her panties and brassiere after John was in bed, in case he noticed.

"I'd like you to lift your skirt if it's alright with you," he quickly added.

"You'd like to see my legs, is that it?"

"Yes."

"What about my breasts?"

"Oh aunty Nancy, I'd like to see everything."

"You go into the other room while I pull the latch closed. We don't want your mother walking in on us." She checked to see John was settled, locked both doors and went into the parlour. Phil was on the settee. His penis practically poking over the top of his shorts. I see you are happy to see me, pointing at his crotch."

"I can't help it aunty Nancy, when it's like this it won't go down."

"Good, that's the way it should be, move over and I'll sit next to you. She unbuttoned her blouse and asked him to put his head on her lap. Her vagina was pulsating but she wanted to dictate what happened and not rush. She turned his head towards her right nipple and pulled his head forward. "In your mouth. Gentle mind, suck it, that's it, a little harder, taste it," holding the back of his head tight to her breast. The heat between her legs was making her dizzy and she could feel the wetness dripping from her vagina, suspecting the back of her skirt was already wet. "Turn a little so I can undo your shorts." She loosened his belt and pulled down his zip. "Stay, keep doing it; a little harder, use your tongue."

The top of his penis was wet with precum as she rubbed her fingers over it, placing one to her nose then on her tongue. "Do the same with the other one." Giving orders and having them obeyed was better than any aphrodisiac. "Go round the nipple with your tongue. You're a good boy, aunty is pleased." She placed her hand over his penis and started moving it. She was clumsy but soon got into the rhythm. His moans were palpable, building her own excitement, listening to his groans, orgasming far too quickly for her liking as his sperm fell over her hand. She coated her hand with his sperm and rubbed it into his penis then placed it over the top of her breasts and cleaned it against the skin while watching his tongue circling her areola. The eroticism of the moment jerking her into her own orgasm without her even touching herself which had never happened before. John banged on the floor. She quickly pushed Phil off, buttoned up her blouse, went to the bottom of the stairs and called. The way she looked, flushed, aroused, sweaty and smelling, there was no way she could let John see her until her body calmed and had washed the smell of her adultery away. She was soaked between her legs and the back of her dress was stained. "The wireless, sorry love, I tried to tune it to another channel, I'll make tea and bring it to you, stay there and rest."

Phil was sitting in the chair mouthing he was sorry. It wasn't his fault, she was making just as much noise, nothing mattered only their pleasure. His penis was still hard and she was nowhere near satisfied, but to carry on with John awake was foolhardy. "Go. Come tomorrow, early evening, touching his penis over his shorts. I've got to go and see to uncle John.

She washed between her legs, face and chest, donned her underwear, changed her top and skirt, made a cup of tea and took it up to John.

"It didn't sound like the wireless, more like someone was in pain."

"I was changing channels and there was static but you may have heard Phil shouting. He came in to wash and he bumped his toes and made a bit of hullabaloo. The suddenness startled me and I must have shouted."

John looked pleased. "I knew it wasn't just the radio."

"At least your hearing is fine."

"You've changed your clothes."

"Yes, I'm doing some washing later."

"Phil's doing a grand job. Is he coming tomorrow?"

"Yes, he said he definitely wants to come tomorrow."

"I only wish I could be of some help."

"Don't let it worry you, dear, Phil gives me all the help I need. I'll let you rest while I'll get on with the washing. Shout down if you want anything." Her body burned with desire. She had an orgasm but it hadn't even scratched the surface of her galloping libido. Watching Phil masturbate, smelling his body, his maleness and zest for life, drove her passion forward to take ever greater risks. Her nipples hadn't even softened when she went to John. Luckily, her utility brassiere was able to disguise her wickedness, but he was perceptive, noticed her change of clothes and commented on the noise. If she hadn't come out with a quick, feasible answer, it would have had him wondering. She needed to speak with Phil before John did, so their stories matched.

The following morning, wearing a short nighty, Nancy tried to get her husband interested in sex and began to fondle his penis as he lay on his back, intending to mount him and do all the work but he shouted at her to leave him alone and act like a respectable married woman, not some wanton who walked the streets, deflating her psyche into guilt for being so forward. She apologised, but when alone in the kitchen, cried. If he had just responded and let her do the work, she would have been happy but his pride was such that he had to be in control and Nancy act the obedient wife and keep her sexuality under wraps as if her needs and enjoyment were unimportant.

The more she read about sex, the more dissatisfied she felt not even sure if she still loved him in the same way after her enlightenment. It wasn't John's illness that made him so rigid, he'd always been that way. Sex, to him, was a man's prerogative where a respectable woman must always stay passive and take what is given without complaint. She'd done more with Phil with their first few secrets than she'd done with her husband in twenty-three years and wondered why she let him get away with it for so long. With Phil, she was a dominant and loved the supremacy, the wickedness, the control and power which she wheeled, accentuating her sense of value as a sensual woman and increasing her sense of worth.

When Phil arrived in the afternoon, she quickly explained what she'd told John in case he asked but he never did. As the day wore on, Phil in the garden John in the chair, it was difficult for Nancy to stay in control. Occasionally, they looked at each other waiting for John to go upstairs but it was seven in the evening before he asked to go to bed.

Phil finished in the garden while Nancy tidied the kitchen. After twenty minutes, she crept up the stairs to see if John had settled. She changed into a low loose, off the shoulder blouse and a full-length skirt, leaving off her undergarments but bringing them with her in case she needed to quickly dress should someone be at the door or John called. She gestured to Phil to come and have something to eat and drink. He washed his hands an went into the parlour. Nancy listened for a few moments at the bottom of the stairs before she joined him, closed the door and sat facing him, warning he'd have to be quiet.

Phil wasted no time in pulling out his penis, it had been hard all afternoon, the top wet.

"Now, now," wagging her finger, "no playing with it," smiling at him. "Tell me what you want?"

He sat in front of her holding his penis, his earlier embarrassment gone. "Show me like last time."

"You're a wicked, boy, You want to see this," lifting her skirt and opening her legs giving him an uninterrupted view of her hairy vagina while pulling the lips apart.