Soaked To the Skin Pt. 07

Hannah looked up, looked into Bradshaw's face. His beard was wet with her. "I'm nearly coming again, Mr Bradshaw."

"How close?"

"Very!"

Slowly the gardener withdrew the aubergine; she felt herself trying to hold onto it but all at once she was empty -- and up before her eyes came the aubergine, warm and sticky from her and, of course, revealing she had had sexual intercourse with Sir Hugh that afternoon. Her mouth opened and in it went -- as Bradshaw's straining erection slid into her vagina. The taste of Sir Hugh's semen suddenly in her mouth and the imminent prospect of Bradshaw spurting his own inside her vagina. Hannah shivered into orgasm but Bradshaw's not so immediate. His teeth grinning out of his wet beard he plunged away with a regular movement of hips, his eyes glued to the purple aubergine sticking rather dramatically from Hannah's mouth; her lips perhaps rather rudely spread around it; the eroticism substantial.

An increased urgency and strength of thrust from Bradshaw and Hannah felt the ejaculation.

And her fig was now just how Lady Lyanthe liked her fruit -- soft and ripe, pink, and served with cream... or yogurt and, actually, she liked a sprinkling of cinnamon. That, of course, could be arranged!

Hannah cycled on towards the park gates, her knee newly plastered beneath her blue jeans, the bicycle's saddle now between her thighs rather than Bradshaw's cock. She turned and waved back at the gardener standing there outside the lodge in his old corduroys and waving a white handkerchief at her. Well... not really a handkerchief; she had left him with her white knickers. He had seemed rather pleased at that. Sir Hugh had a pair and now so too did Bradshaw. She would have to buy some new pairs at this rate. What did men do with them?