Playing Away Pt. 02

Part 2 -- You may wish to read Part 1 first. Or not. Everyone involved is of legal age. Comments welcome.

*****

In the morning we were up quite early. The rain had stopped, and after dressing I went down to the kitchen to make coffee and croissants. The door to the little living room was still closed, just as we'd left it. I was careful not to make too much noise. Tishy came down shortly after, in her bathrobe, and we had breakfast together outside on the bench in the little garden.

"Did you look in on our guest?" she asked.

"No, I thought I'd let him sleep," I replied.

"Let's go and take a peep."

We tiptoed inside the house, and slowly opened the door. The curtains were still closed, with a single shaft of light across the room. It took a while for our eyes to get accustomed to the darkness.

He was asleep on the sofa. The blanket had slipped to the floor, and he was naked except for a pair of white briefs, illuminated by the light through the curtains. The briefs were tight, and the outline of his swollen dick, trapped to one side, was perfectly obvious. Morning wood.

"Oh my," breathed Tishy. "What a beauty."

He was indeed quite the sleeping Adonis -- more man than boy -- perhaps in his mid-twenties. He obviously took good care of his body. And his main asset was perfectly displayed.

"Let's not wake him just yet," I whispered, and we closed the door gently. Back outside in the garden she exhaled slowly.

"Like a gift from heaven," she said. I smiled.

"I guess he'll sleep in 'til lunchtime -- he must be exhausted after his ordeal in the rain last night. When he wakes up, tell him I'll be home soon."

"Why, where are you going?" my wife asked.

"We have a few errands, remember? We need more milk, and the cards need to go in the post. You don't mind staying behind, do you?" It was my turn to give her one of those looks.

"No, of course not," she answered shyly, "I'm sure I can handle him."

"Well, be good," I said, giving her a peck on the cheek, and set off.

Coming out of the Post Office, my thoughts with Ben asleep on our sofa, I almost literally bumped into the barmaid from the pub the night before. She gave me that wonderful smile, a twinkle in her blue eyes. "Well, hello," she said. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Indeed yes -- a serendipity," I said, rather stupidly -- I'd been caught unawares.

"That's one of my favourite words," she replied, gracefully.

"I'm Jim," I said.

"Mary," she replied, "Pleased to meet you, Jim," and we were soon laughing and chatting, about this and that, and the other. In fact, we got on rather well. "Let's go and sit on the sea front," she eventually suggested -- "It's lovely this early, before the ice cream van arrives." Of course I agreed.

It was a delight to walk with her. Once in a while I sneaked a glance at her cleavage, now supported by a push up bra under a sleeveless top. A full knee length skirt completed her outfit. I wondered what might be underneath it.

We found a bench overlooking the harbour. The tide was out, and the seagulls screeched around the beached fishing boats. Even the sun put in an appearance. We sat down to take in the scene, and there was a lull in the conversation. She clearly wanted something of me, but I wasn't sure what.

"I can't work it out -- was that your wife or your sister with you last night?" Mary finally asked.

I was rather taken aback. "Why, my wife, of course -- Tishy," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

I couldn't tell whether Mary was surprised, pleased, or disappointed. "She's so beautiful, and charismatic," she said quietly, and then added "And such a flirt -- the guys were all eating out of her hand."

This was an interesting image. "Yes," I said, "She loves to play with young lads."

"But Jim, don't you mind?" Mary blurted out, looking at me as if I was insane.

"No," I said quietly, "Of course not -- why would I mind? It makes her happy -- and if she's happy, I'm happy too. It's simple really. I know she loves me, so why would I mind her having some fun?"

She thought for a moment. "What a lovely way to see things -- I hadn't thought about it like that. And there was silly me, feeling sorry for you."

"No need to feel sorry for me -- I'm the luckiest man alive."

"Are you not worried she might be unfaithful.... and get pregnant?" was her next question.

"I'd love it if she got pregnant," I replied straightaway. "We've always wanted a baby -- it just never happened."

She paused, for thought. "Are you gay?" she asked.

"No, Mary, I'm not gay," I said. "At least, I don't think so. If I was, I wouldn't be flirting with such a pretty young lady."

At this she smiled, flattered. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. "So," she said, how does it work? -- does she let you have fun with girls?"

"Of course -- why not? I'm having plenty of fun right now."

"So what will you tell her when you get home?"

"I'll tell her that I met the very pretty barmaid in the village, and we had a lovely time on a bench by the harbour in the sunshine," I said.

Mary flushed crimson, and bent forwards to hide her face. Recovering her composure, she looked me in the eyes. "Will you tell her that you keep looking down my top?" she asked, smiling.

"Yes," I said, "I'll tell her you have lovely tits."

"Stop it!" she said, laughing now -- "You're as bad as she is!"

"Of course," I said -- "She is my wife, after all."

At this we both laughed. Her tits shook when she laughed. "I can't get over how relaxed you are about all this," she said, "It makes me feel so uptight -- I could never be so -- open."

"So you'd never let your boyfriend flirt with other girls?" I asked.

"I don't have a boyfriend -- we broke up a few weeks ago."

"Oh I'm sorry. Why was that?" I asked -- "Was he unfaithful?"

"No," she said, "He was lovely. I just couldn't give him what he wanted." She looked upset, and I wondered whether I'd gone too far.

"I'm sure you could give any man more than he wanted..." I said, gently.

"You're very kind, but you don't understand -- I get so tense when a man touches me -- down there. I think there must be something wrong with me." This in a whisper. There were tears in her eyes.

I handed her my hanky. Fortunately, it was pretty clean. I always get embarrassed when girls cry. "I'm very sorry, Mary" I said, putting my hand on her bare arm. Her skin was wonderfully soft. "I shouldn't have been so forward."

She sniffled, looked at me with red eyes, and laughed. "You must think I'm a real nutcase," she said.

Of course, this thought had already occurred to me. "No," I said, dishonestly. "Don't be silly. You just need to relax and stop worrying about everything so much."

"I know," she said, "I just need to let go, lose control. I'm such a control freak." And she threw her head back and screamed silently, up at the seagulls, who screamed back.

"Perhaps you should have a chat with Tishy," I suggested -- "Girl talk." Which reminded me that I'd left Tishy alone in the cottage -- with temptation.

"Perhaps I should," she said, and blew her nose in my hanky.

"Look," I said, "I have to hurry home now -- but we'll see each other again I hope -- perhaps in the pub?"

"Sure," she said, sadly. "I work Monday to Thursday this week -- off on Friday."

With that I reluctantly left her, and dashed off back to the cottage. Because of Mary, time had flown, and I was a little nervous -- it seemed irresponsible to have left Tishy alone so long with a man we hardly knew.

I arrived home, and slipped in quietly. There was nobody in the kitchen, and I noticed that Tishy had taken down Ben's things, and folded them in a neat pile on the table. The door to the sitting room was wide open -- but there was nobody there either.

I thought I could hear her voice upstairs, so I crept up the narrow staircase, as quietly as I could, my heart beating wildly. The bedroom door was open, and there she was sitting at the dressing table on the far side of the room, in her robe, with her back to me, combing out her long, wet hair, and singing softly to herself.

So where was Ben? Then I noticed his bare feet -- he was lying on the bed behind the door to my left, again with his back to me. With a bit more effort I could just see his lower half -- his head was behind the door, presumably on the pillows. He was still wearing the tight white briefs.

But what really caught my attention was that he was running his hand along the length of what was clearly a very long hard prick. And then I realised why -- he could see my wife's reflection in the mirror on the dressing table. Her robe was fully open at the front, her lovely knockers enjoying the morning air. No wonder he was so stiff!

Then I saw my wife take a peek in the mirror -- if he could see her, she could see him. She was showing off for him -- but trying to act as if he wasn't there -- or that she didn't know he was awake, watching her.

She reached in her drawer, and selected her naughtiest black suspender belt and stockings. Her gown now fully open, she wrapped the belt around her waist. Then she lifted her left leg onto the arm of the chair, and began to put on the silk stocking, over her foot, rolling up her calves, and onto her thigh, to just below her bare pussy. He could see everything.

When it came to the right leg, she must have known that when she put it over the arm of the chair, her pussy lips would be open wide. In fact, I know that she knew, because she had often teased me with precisely this trick. As she lifted her thigh, I could see it shaking with excitement. She was doubtless very wet.

I took another peek at Ben, and the crimson shiny head of his prick was now sticking out of the top of his briefs. His hand was inside them, wanking with slow firm strokes. Tishy was looking in the mirror, transfixed -- he must have known by now that she was watching him play with himself, but he was too far gone to care.

Unable to resist a closer look, she pushed back the chair from the dressing table, and turned to face him. He continued to masturbate as she gazed with admiration and lust at his thick and long prick. It was now fully exposed, and frankly magnificent.

Unable to drag her eyes away, she leant back against the dresser and spread her legs wide, her gown falling away to either side. She then slid her hand down to her inner thigh, and let her fingers creep up to her open wet pussy. And so for a few minutes they enjoyed each other -- both exhibitionists -- both voyeurs -- both masturbating -- no one speaking.

It was then that I made the mistake of unzipping my pants. I did it as quietly as I could, but I think Tishy heard it, because she took a sharp intake of breath. Then she turned towards the door, and a little smile came to her face. I could now see just how wet she was, her fingers playing in her cunt.

As if making a decision she stood up. The gown dropped from her shoulders, and she was completely naked except for the stockings. She walked over to the bed, and looked down at Ben. He stopped wanking, not sure what was about to happen.

"You're such a naughty boy," she said, breaking the silence. "I'm old enough to be your mother. But then again, you have such a fine prick."

She sat down on the edge of the bed, one foot still on the floor, took hold of his dick and started to slowly move the foreskin up and down, over his knob. "You can touch me too if you like," she whispered. Ben, breathing heavily, ran his hands eagerly over her breasts, playing with the nipples. He then slipped a hand between her open legs. "Nice and gentle," she said, "That's it."

They played like this for some time, she moving her hand along the full length of his fine young prick, he working his fingers into her pussy, and pulling gently on her nipples. It was lovely to watch. I was close to coming myself, but knew I musn't risk making a noise and spoiling the whole show. I was hoping it would last forever.

"Do you like feeling my cunt, Ben?" she said. Tishy didn't use this language normally, but then she didn't normally wank off young boys while naked. Ben must have nodded -- he still hadn't said anything -- because she was now working him harder and faster. "You know Ben, I'd love to feel that big fat prick of yours up my cunt. Can you imagine how that would feel? All tight and hot and wet."

"Oh Christ!" went Ben, and a huge jet of come shot from his prick, hitting the headboard -- we found it later, still sticky -- then spurt after spurt onto his chest and tummy, then a steady stream down and over her hand.

"Dirty boy," she said, "Now mummy will have to clean you up," and she bent forward, taking his still swollen and no doubt very sensitive prick into her mouth, licking and slurping.

Once his dick was clean, she crawled up his tummy and chest, licking up the cum as she went, his hand still fondling her swinging knockers as if he never wanted to let them go. From the sound of it, she then kissed him on the mouth.

I slipped away at this point and left them to it. My own stiffy would have to wait. I stuffed my dick back into my trousers, put on the kettle to make a pot of tea, and got out the biscuits. By the time Tishy ventured downstairs, wrapped up in her robe, followed by Ben, now fully dressed, I was sitting out in the garden, sipping tea, and enjoying the sunshine.

"Hello dear," I said, "Did you have a nice shower? Oh, and Ben, did you sleep well? I've just made a pot of tea."

Ben seemed rather embarrassed, picked up his things from the kitchen, and was gone before I had time to ask him how he planned to spend the rest of his day. Tishy sat down beside me on the bench, and took a sip of my tea.

Then she stood up, slipped the bathrobe off her shoulders, and stood over me naked except for the silk stockings. I slipped my hand between her legs, into her wet folds.

"Take me to bed, sweetheart," she said, "You need to fuck me."

"You mean you want to feel my big fat prick up your cunt?" I said, teasing.

"Pervert," she said, laughing, then turned and ran back into the house, up the stairs. I followed, loosening my shirt. She was right -- after all the mornings excitement, I needed a good fuck. She'd been nicely prepared by Ben, so I just pushed myself straight up her, and enjoyed her wetness. I came rather quickly -- in a sense he'd prepared me too.

Afterwards we lay side by side on the bed, breathless but satisfied. "So," I said, "What was all that about?"

"I'm sorry," she said, "But it just sort of happened."

"I could see that," I said. "Start from the beginning."

"Well, he woke up not long after you'd left," she explained, "And came into the kitchen. I didn't know where to look -- I mean those white briefs were so tight, and he made no effort to cover up. I suggested he went upstairs to take a shower."

"So did you join him in the shower?" I suggested.

"No, of course not," she said -- "I'm a married woman."

"Yesss..., so?"

"Well, then the shower went quiet, and, well, nothing happened -- for half an hour or so. I tiptoed upstairs to see what had happened to him, and he was lying on our bed, out for the count. He must have fallen back to sleep. So then I took my shower."

"And he joined you in the shower?" I said, smiling.

"No! -- what is this with you and showers, all of a sudden? Anyway, when I came out, I needed to dry my hair, and get dressed, but all my things were in the bedroom. I thought he was asleep, so why not?"

"And then you realised he wasn't?"

"I could see his dick in the mirror, and then I caught him stroking himself. I thought... well I thought that I could have a bit of fun -- tease him a bit. And then I got turned on too -- and then I saw you in the doorway, wanking, you dirty old man. And I guess you know the rest."

"Indeed -- I'll never forget it!"

"So why did you take so long in the village -- I thought you were just going to the Post Office?"

"Well, I was, but then I met up with Mary -- you know -- the barmaid in the pub last night. And we sat on a bench overlooking the harbour, and had a wee chat. She was flirting with me -- I told you she liked me."

"But you're old enough to be her father."

"Exactly. Anyway, she said I had to tell you that I think she has lovely tits."

At this Tishy laughed. "You were looking down her top again, then?"

"Yes, but this time she caught me. Anyway, then she began to cry -- it was dreadful."

"Why, what did you say to her? -- surely she didn't cry because you liked her tits?"

"She seems very insecure about boys, and sex and all that. It wouldn't surprise me if she was still a virgin."

"Really? At her age? I very much doubt it. Still, what did you say to all that?"

"I said she should talk to you -- that you might be able to help her..."

"And how could I do that?"

I left this question hanging, and sucked her nipple instead. Soon after we fell asleep. It had been a busy morning.

We slept until late afternoon. Disappointed to find the day nearly gone, we dressed and went out to potter around the village, and perhaps find something to eat. Pausing to look in a shop window, we heard a familiar voice behind us.

"Hi, Jim." It was Phil the photographer. "Will you be in the pub tonight? I could bring my camera like you suggested?"

"Yes, perhaps," I said, taken by surprise. "We'll maybe see you there." Phil looked a bit disappointed.

But Tishy had other ideas. "If we miss you, why not come up to the cottage. We should be back early tonight -- we're going to eat soon. Say eightish?"

"Yes, come straight to the cottage," I agreed. "You can show me how your cam-thingy works."

"That's great," said the boy, "I'll bring my stuff in the car. Matt might come too, if that's OK."

"Sounds lovely," smiled Tishy.

Instead of the restaurant, we decided it was too warm to eat a full meal so early, so instead found a little place that served afternoon tea. Truth was, we felt rather listless and tired -- and we both wanted to feel on top form -- though why, neither of us was quite sure.

I actually felt a little disappointed because my wife was wearing a rather conservative long blue dress, and I was beginning to think she'd had a change of heart about the boys. As we chatted, she did mention Mary once or twice, but otherwise she was perfectly prim and proper.

We strolled around the harbour, sat for while on the same bench as I'd sat with Mary earlier in the day -- Tishy wanted to know everything -- and we were back to the cottage in plenty of time.

At seven thirty she went upstairs, "To freshen up a little." I sat in the garden thinking that perhaps some alcohol would be a good idea, to lower everyone's inhibitions, so I poured myself a drink. I wasn't really looking forward to a technical lecture on film making.

The boys arrived together in an old car, right on time. While Phil was bringing in his equipment, I got Matthew a beer and he sat with me in the garden. He seemed a little nervous and embarrassed meeting up again.

"Where's your little brother?" I asked casually.

"Oh, I thought it better not to bring him after last night," explained Matthew -- "It was so embarrassing."

"Not really," I said -- "He was just wanking -- and what could be more natural than that?"

"I guess so," said Matthew, evasively -- "But in front of a lady?"

"Oh, I don't think Tishy minded -- on the contrary, I think she was flattered." This seemed to relax him a little. Then I added, spontaneously "Do you never invite girls to your Wank Club?"

"You must be kidding," he said. "No, it's strictly men only. But you musn't talk about it -- we have a rule that what happens in Wank Club, stays in Wank Club."

"When do you next meet up?" I asked.

"Friday," said Matthew. "You could come along if you like -- kind of like an honorary member."