Room with a Secret Ch. 10

Jim closed his eyes. It was just so lovely. His thoughts going to Mike out and about, maybe in a shop, with no idea his girlfriend had Jim's penis clasped in her hand. What she was getting up to whilst he was away.

"Your turn, I think, Miss Attleborough, before you make a mess with Jim's penis all down your nice little skirt. Would you like Jim to help? Jim, undress the young lady, would you?"

The opportunity very much what Jim did want. The boots had looked so right for her pretend riding but as she stood before him, he was delighted to be able to unzip first one and then the other. He looked up, more to suggest she stepped out of one and then the other, but, again, it afforded him a view up her skirt. A different angle, a closer view of those white knickers and the shape beneath.

It was too good a position not to not take the opportunity. Something special about reaching up into a girl's skirt and drawing down knickers, white and warm; and, as they came down, what a view! Jim stood, deliberately ensuring his knob came up under her skirt, lifting the material. How good to know when he saw her again in that skirt, he would know he had done just that - poked under and lifted it with his hard cock.

Standing close to Cynthia he undid her blouse, revealing her white brassiere and rather more of the swell of her breasts. His cock was still lifting the skirt as he reached behind her to undo the clasp. As he did so his knob felt the touch of feminine curls. The surging of male desire. The sheer excitement of having such a gorgeous girl there at his disposal, the urge to push forward and get between her legs; to thrust upwards into hot wetness and impregnate - and come with hard, ecstatic spurtings. Such desire - such pleasure. Jim was almost beside himself, his fingers trembling as he endeavoured to undo the brassiere clasp.

Lastly the mini skirt fell. Naked at last. Cynthia without a stitch of clothing - and, indeed, Jim the same. He looked at Mr Crowfoot seated in a chair. A nod of approval.

"Such fine young bodies. A delight to an old man. Turn her around, Jim, make her twirl."

Jim took Cynthia's hand and lifted it upwards and she did just what was asked. How could she not in Mr Crowfoot's study? A slow spinning around on her toes allowing Mr Crowfoot to see her body from all angles.

"I should have you both dancing. It would be lovely to see - naked dancers on the floor."

Jim could imagine that might be illustrated in just the sort of book Mr Crowfoot might have upon his shelves, a series of very rude watercolours showing a man and a woman, or maybe men and women, dancing naked and with the man or men erect.

"But, you were going to show us your riding, Cynthia."

So good to see the girl swing her leg over the arm of the Chesterfield and settle herself on her 'saddle,' she reached forward as if holding the reins and began to bounce as if on a hack, out in the countryside. Simply superb to watch. The naked girl, one foot on the floor to push herself up, one knee bent because the Chesterfield's seat was in the way, her thighs spread and her so enticing, hair covered mound going up and down, whilst her breasts bounced. Jim could imagine how fantastic she must have looked with her friend riding across that field. What a sight for a farmer to have seen, or a farmhand, hidden behind a hedge and watching. Perhaps he might have known the girls - that would have made it even more pleasurable - and surely his penis would have hardened and he would have released it from his trousers and stroked, very likely eliciting that pearly shower into the hedge; a proper tribute to the sight of such young, beautiful femininity.

Jim could not help staring at Cynthia's sex, could not help watching how the wet patch upon the Chesterfield's arm seeming to be growing larger. It made a fine saddle, the leather hard.

"Not quite like a saddle, is it, Cynthia," he said, "no horn."

That elicited a big grin from the girl, "don't know your saddles, do you Jim? And I know just what you're imagining. You're thinking of that big thing sticking out as my saddle horn aren't you?"

And Jim had to admit it, delighted at how the room aroused Cynthia's sexuality - made her 'naughty.'

She continued, "English saddles have a pommel, a mound to the front and a cantle to the rear; it is the Western saddle that has the horn on the pommel for tying lassos and so on. It does look like a prick doesn't it. Makes girl riders look a little like they've got a cock. And male riders..."

The movement of tongue across lips gave Jim a shiver. Lucky Mike, he had a sexy girlfriend all right! She patted the leather in front of her as if Jim needed encouragement to sit. So good to slide himself towards the girl along the leather arm, his own perineum resting upon the leather, his balls resting there too and his penis curving up almost between the girl's thighs.

"A bit closer, Jim," their knees touched as both spread their thighs wide, "that's it. You see, you, or rather I, can grasp the saddle's horn in one hand and the bridle in the other." Cynthia grasped. She was going up and down still upon the supposed saddle, her thighs flexing as she pushed down with her foot and upon her other knee, her hand transmitting the motion to Jim's erection, pretending to hold the bridle with her other hand. "Of course, if I go into a bit of a canter..." the motion was faster - Mike's girlfriend was wanking him rather quickly. "And if I gallop..."

Nearly so nearly, did a second wet patch form, it might even have merged with Cynthia's own; so nearly did Jim's penis spurt, but Cynthia knew what was happening and released him; his knob twitching, so smooth and swollen. The polished end to a Western saddle horn.

"It even curves the right way for a saddle horn, Jim. It should curve forwards not backward towards the rider. If you were to turn around it would be quite the wrong way. That'd be like riding two to a horse, with the man in front. I've always liked to imagine the man behind me, his hands holding the reins and him pressed up behind me, being able to feel his erection behind me through our jodhpurs."

"Or skin to skin if naked."

"Yes, Mr Crowfoot - that is what I tend to imagine if feeling sexy rather than romantic."

"Have you with Mike?" asked Jim, "or someone else?"

"Mike doesn't ride and, alas, no."

"I have," said Mr Crowfoot," I used to ride.

More revelations about the old man. Not only had her ridden but ridden behind a woman. Jim was not surprised to learn it had been a naked ride and he had, indeed, copulated on horseback."

"You haven't, Mr Crowfoot," Cynthia's eyes sparkled and her mouth was open, "Not really!"

"It was a long time ago. Shall I demonstrate?" He smiled at Jim, "I think I shall. I am sure you are willing, Cynthia, you can imagine a nice young man."

It amused Jim, how the randy old boy, just used the room to his advantage. How he could get this twenty-one year old girl to readily accept sexual relations with an old man. Mr Crowfoot had basically proposed copulating with her, and she sat there awaiting the act with not the slightest hint of demur. Potentially she would be between two men on the Chesterfield - not quite a rock and a hard place but certainly she would be between two hard things! Jim, though was a little concerned at Mr Crowfoot having to get up on the Chesterfield. He retreated down the arm and stood waiting to assist him as the old man undressed.

An old man indeed. His body betrayed his age but there was nothing 'old' about his strongly upright cock, except for its cragginess of course. It had the virile look of a young man - like Jim or Mike. There was not the slightest cloud passing over Cynthia's face as she watched Mr Crowfoot's disrobing, no hint that she was anything other than pleased at what she saw. Perhaps she did indeed see 'a nice young man.' Quite what she thought of one naked and strongly erect young man assisting another naked and erect man to sit behind her, Cynthia did not say. But with Mr Crowfoot astride the Chesterfield's arm, his hands moulding her breasts - to ensure he did not slip off of course, and his erect penis comfortably lodged in her bottom crack - without the separating material of jodhpurs - the two people were ready to ride. Jim returned to his role as saddle horn, sliding up the arm towards Cynthia, and all was set.

Sexual activity is somewhat what play is to children - it is adult play and much of it is spent in fantasy and games. Dressing up games when the woman dons sexy underwear she might not usually wear, or perhaps a French Maid's outfit, maybe just high heels or maybe even leather or latex wear; maybe the man dresses in a dinner suit with black tie or posing pouch or maybe leather straps. Role playing games where perhaps the man pretends to be the teacher and spank his girl as if she was an errant schoolgirl - or maybe it is the other way around; games played outdoors when the couple choose to copulate perhaps in their back garden with the frisson of maybe being seen - or in the countryside, enjoying a potentially exhibitionist game. All sorts of games, and that was just what was going on in Mr Crowfoot's study. And did Mr Crowfoot enjoy his games! He did like to have the girls around to play

'Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,

Kissed the girls and made them cry,

When the girls came out to play,

Georgie Porgie ran away.'

There was no chance of Cynthia crying and no chance of Mr Crowfoot running away! He could no longer run of course, he was far too old, but was very much enjoying the play, and did not want to leave.

Up and down bounced Cynthia and Mr Crowfoot as if riding. Up and down her bottom crack went Mr Crowfoot's penis and then Cynthia lent forward, right forward as if preparing herself for the gallop. A wriggle of her hips and bottom and whilst still bounding up and down she managed to lodge herself onto Mr Crowfoot's cock - not in her bottom, but where a penis should go. It was not real, they were not actually on horseback but the pretence was most certainly there. Cynthia grabbed the saddle horn. And they were off across the field - all pretend and play of course.

"Enough, enough," cried Mr Crowfoot after a good canter. Cynthia brought the 'horse' to a halt and sat there unmoving but still mounted. Mounted as if she was back in that field with her friend, certainly as naked but this time with a man's penis inside her.

Jim stood up, relinquishing his role as a saddle horn; standing, though, so his knob rose up right into the face of Cynthia. It was, of course, something he had been longing to do. It was what men wish to do when enjoying the sight of a pretty girl - project their erections forward to be sucked. They wish to show their appreciation of her prettiness and offer her something to drink. So good to push his cock against Cynthia's nose. What would Mike think of that? What would Mike think if he just walked into the flat's kitchen stark naked and erect with Cynthia and Mike sitting at the table and pushed his swollen knob into Mike's girlfriend's face. And what would he think if Cynthia made no other reaction than to open her mouth and wrap her lips around it - and that was just what she did there in Mr Crowfoot's study. Cynthia still very much between a rock and a hard place - or rather between two rock hard cocks, one in her mouth and the other in her vagina. She began to move again, pushing forward with her mouth as Mr Crowfoot's penis was eased out of her vagina and then back again, absorbing Mr Crowfoot and bringing Jim's knob back out of her throat. Slowly, so slowly. Forwards and backwards in silence until Mr Crowfoot spoke:

"I would like to see how wet Miss Cynthia has made her saddle."

Jim stepped backwards with alacrity. So very enjoyable to have his cock sucked but, as always, he was concerned for his friend. It sounded a little like Mr Crowfoot was starting to find his position difficult and needed to move. Perhaps there was a risk of cramp. Cynthia too moved to help, pulling herself from Mr Crowfoot with a rather satisfying sexual sound. Had someone, perhaps a window cleaner, looked in at the study window what a sight he would have seen. A puzzling sight, certainly. Not so unusual, maybe, to see two young persons engaged sexually - naked and very obviously sexual - but what of the naked old boy? What about the sight of the two naked young persons, presumably lovers, assisting a naked old man who, like the young man, had a very obvious erection - an erection, if the window cleaner looked closely, very much appeared to be wet as if from the young lady's mouth or sex. What was going on? Had the old boy engaged not just a 'lady of the night' but a young man as well to have sex with? It would give the window cleaner something to think about - perhaps that night when in bed!

Mr Crowfoot was grateful for the support, Cynthia one side, Jim the other. They all looked at the oval shaped and dark wet mark upon the polished leather of the Chesterfield. It was very unlikely such a wet patch had not been there many times before. Perhaps Mr Crowfield's mother had 'ridden' the arm. Perhaps Mr Crowfield's father had given riding lessons to young girls, thwacking bare bottoms with his riding crop if they did not sit well upon the saddle. Perhaps Mrs Crowfield had held the riding crop instead, and caught bare young female bottoms with it. Jim just did not know.

"I wonder," mused Mr Crowfield, "were your saddles after your ride across the field marked like that?"

Cynthia nodded. What a thought! It pleased Jim to imagine the two girls dismounting, legs swung over the horse as they got down, a flash of open thighs, wet sexual orifices there to be seen and, behind them, the lovely evidence of their arousal. And what if they had indeed had young male lovers awaiting them at the top of the field. Two handsome naked boys, their twin cocks firming as the girls rode with bouncing breasts towards them. Would they perhaps leap into the saddles for a race before fucking the girls? How exciting to feel between their own thighs, upon their perinea and ball sacks the wetness of the girls. How lovely too, for Cynthia and her friend to see their fine young men mounted - and, yes, the saddles all at once becoming Western saddles - both with horns, as the men turned the horses to ride back down the field!

The question then became, where would Mr Crowfoot like to sit? He chose to sit at the table as if about to dine - and 'dine' he did! He asked if Cynthia enjoyed cunnilingus and it transpired with her frank reply - the room's happy effect - that she did, very much. She would not normally 'fuck' without Mike first having gone down on her, most often to give her a first orgasm. So satisfying for Jim now to help Cynthia; to assist her in getting up upon the table to lie upon her back and slide her open sex, with spread thighs, towards the seated Mr Crowfoot for him to 'dine.' The table was not large, and Cynthia's head hung the other side. A perfect position for her to perform orally on a man. Jim moved around the table and again, presented himself to Cynthia, she receiving an upside down view of the approaching, wavering cock and hanging balls. Once again, her lips opened and she sucked him in. Across the table from him Mr Crowfoot's head was lowered and all Jim could see was a grey head deep in Cynthia's patch of curls. Jim reached forward to Cynthia's naked body atop the table and played with her breasts and hard nipples as Cynthia sucked.

Easy to take himself from Cynthia's mouth if coming too close, edging himself in the sucking mouth. Much more difficult to extract himself when Cynthia went into orgasm as a result of Mr Crowfoot's work; the suction became considerable - the girl clearly not wanting to relinquish the cock as her body rippled with orgasm.

Mr Crowfoot made to stand and once again Jim rushed to his assistance, easing the chair backwards. Mr Crowfoot now wished to fuck; wished to insert his knob where his mouth had been moments before.

"It's all right, Jim, don't fuss! I can hold onto the table here, and I can put my own cock into Miss Cynthia, there is no need for you to help me."

Jim had not been intending to help that much! He watched as the old man, his weight partially supported on his hands positioned his hips just right; there was no need for much effort, Cynthia was just so wet, the swollen mauve and purple bell-end just parted the girl and slipped inside. The old boy was on the job again, his rugged and aged cock disappearing easily into the girl. Carefully he moved first one hand and then the other so rather than holding onto the table he was holding onto Cynthia's breasts. It made him lean forward, his hips working.

Jim stood watching, resting before taking more stimulation to his cock; very much enjoying the sight of Cynthia spread out on the table and being so used by Mr Crowfoot. The old man's needs being satisfied yet again. His need, despite his age, to slide his cock into a girl's wet pussy and release his semen. Jim sighed, how lucky he had been to have met Mr Crowfoot, found him lying on his garden path. So much sexual enjoyment had come of it.

"You are on the Pill, Cynthia?"

Jim frowned, there was no need for Mr Crowfoot to ask, no need for him to pull out before ejaculation, with his infertile semen he could spurt away with no worry.

"Yes, Mr Crowfoot, I take it every day; are you going to come in me? I've never been fucked by someone so... " she paused, searching for a polite word.

"Old, Cynthia, old. Jim is going to come in you as well. He is going to take you next - unless you want a different position, Jim. Perhaps on all fours, pretending to be a stallion covering a mare?"

Other positions, other games, perhaps even Cynthia with bridle and bit were certainly ideas but Jim was more than content with the idea of Mike's girlfriend spread out like that, her sex so exposed - so he could watch himself go in. Perhaps another time. Having got Cynthia across the road once, he was sure he could do that again. Mr Crowfoot would want more than the single opportunity.

Mr Crowfoot made the sort of sounds men ejaculating make; the rapid movements of his hips an indication that he was endeavouring to achieve maximum stimulation from Cynthia's probably clasping, hot, wet vagina as his hands squeezed her breasts.

Jim was, again, immediately attentive, close to his friend, anxious to ensure he did not stumble when he let go of either Cynthia's breasts or the tabletop. The old man just stood there, leaning forward, shaking a little, clearly much moved by the ecstasy of his coming. Finally, Mr Crowfoot made to move away, his old cock slipping from the young girl. Jim helped him to the Chesterfield, his own cock so upright, so different now from Mr Crowfoot's flaccid penis. A wet flaccid penis betraying all the signs of just having had a very good time.

And now, there was Cynthia upon the table, spread, fucked and ready to be fucked again. Her swollen, wet and somewhat semen oozing - cummy you might say - sex there at the edge of the table; it was so enticing to Jim. Had he not met Mr Crowfoot when would he have been likely to experience sexual intercourse? Perhaps one year in the future, but was there any likelihood of him ever being able to simply walk naked across a room towards a spread, naked and 'fuck-ready' and attractive girl he barely knew with penis erect and pointing and just walk up to her and push into her sex? And Jim did just that. No preliminaries, no nothing. No way such a thing would have happened with Cynthia or anyone for that matter, without the room. No welcome call was ever likely to have come from Mike's bedroom, 'Just come and fuck Cynthia will you, I haven't fucked her enough.'

So good to slide, and slide so easily, into Cynthia and copulate. No need to hurry, no need to do anything but fuck. Jim did play with her nipples, did enjoy stroking her little smooth 'pea,' and was rewarded by seeing her come again. How pretty her face looked in the throes of orgasm, such a wondering but vacant look.