The Haberdasher Ch. 01

She was nearly twice my age, that was a fact and why previously I had never really considered her sensuality. There again, she was still most definitely very attractive with shoulder length light brown hair and sparkly blue eyes. She was quite short so looked plumper than she really was and had retained a very luscious figure. Her bust was generous, her buttocks gently padded and her thighs well rounded. I certainly was not in love with her, nor anything like it. But then Christine had been my only partner during a whole year and a new lover would certainly... Being young and relatively inexperienced what I had not considered was that an older lady like Annabelle might just want to indulge herself too.

When Annabelle's turn came she drew, 'lady to unbutton man's shirt and tickle his nipples with a fingernail'. Annabelle straddled my lap and undid my buttons one by one, leering wickedly all the while. I discovered that evening that I have really sensitive nipples and when she was done my poor pole was as hard as a rock. Annabelle had taken note of my excitement because when my member had began to stiffen she had started wriggling and grinding her bum over it making my excitement, and my embarrassment, all the more intense. This was the point when I really did begin to consider the pleasures that were likely to result if I were to walk Annabelle home.

The second forfeit that I drew ordered me to kiss Mrs. Briggs, 'tongues buried in each others mouths for a full minute.' I was scared but she sat on my lap and applied herself to the task with enthusiasm; so I was allowed to kiss the boss's wife with a passion. Moreover as she explored my mouth with her probing tongue, which she did most thoroughly and provocatively, the minx pressed her ample bosom firmly into my chest. Her ample buttocks rolled over my groin and, to put it politely, her behaviour was exceptionally suggestive.

Fortunately, Mr. Briggs was not given long to reflect upon his wife's licentious demeanour because, shortly after, the first general forfeit was picked out, 'the ladies were to go into another room and remove their panties.' This caused quite a buzz of excitement as the ladies filed out. When they came back they looked no different but the air was electric; well there had been forfeits such as, 'the man to run a finger up and down the crack of his partner's sex and bottom' and 'the lady to sit on the mans hand, whilst held palm up'. Certainly my cock was straining to escape the restrictions of my trousers.

Annabelle's second forfeit was a corker, not really that rude but designed to embarrass, 'simulate doggy style sex with the lady bent over the coffee table. Lady to come first followed by the gent.' I blushed again, simulating sex was OK, that I did not mind. Having to fake an orgasm in public, that was a different kettle of fish: recall all this happened long before Harry met Sally. Annabelle didn't bat an eyelid she simply draped her self over the coffee table so that all I had to do was kneel behind her and pretend to hump. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I shoved against her for the first time. She whispered loudly, "oh my God you're so big. Be gentle with me lover boy, take your time, you really stretch me so wide." Well my cock might not have been inside of her as she pretended but after that outburst it was just as big and stiff as it could be.

Annabelle was good, really good and so wholeheartedly convincing. First she held herself a little stiffly and inhaled sharply between her teeth every time I punished against her rump, making a noise that could have indicated either pain or pleasure; perhaps the combination of both. As she slowly relaxed her body she also began to breath in and out loudly and rhythmically, air hissing through her teeth; uncomplicated pleasure now. She had very visibly adjusted to my clearly outsized rod. Her breathing became noisier and more ragged. "Faster, deeper," she cried out loud.

We eventually established a steady rhythm, when I pushed she let out a great "ah" of excitement and as I pulled back she let out a loud "ooh" of pure lust. Her pants became shorter and sharper and she was definitely well on her way to coming. In response I began to make little grunts of my own, doing my utmost to sound like a man who was trying desperately to put-off his own impending orgasm. In the end we almost 'climaxed' together. After that I performed those last few tentative strokes of a man with a hyper-sensitive penis trying to extract a few further moments of delight from a purring pussy and Annabelle appeared to sprawl and mew with contentment. When we stood up we were give a loud round of applause accompanied by a great deal of laughter. These were followed up with a number of squalid proposals as to what we might care to next entertain the crowd with next.

"Better take him home with you Annabelle, sounds as if you could use him," that was Alice's husband, our generous host.

His wife, Alice, was about to elbow him in the ribs but then she had a better idea, "if you don't want him leave him behind! I could use some of that and Tony's outbursts tell me he's already had too much to drink to be any real fun tonight."

Tony blushed and to a great deal of ribald laughter tried to protest his relative sobriety. Anyway I was grateful for his confusion because he took the spotlight off Annabelle and I. Except that Annabelle dragged it right back, "you'd better walk me home Tony or these harpies will gang together and keep you'll never get any sleep."

The game recommenced, now boisterous: with a great deal more double entendre and much more overtly lascivious groping and fondling than had been the case earlier. Suddenly an utter silence fell. The second general forfeit had been drawn. It was the first part of the two-parter. 'Ladies tell your man what sexual treat you are going to bestow upon him when you get home, be generous in your favours and explicit.'

Annabelle's reaction shocked me, I expected her to propose a good night kiss or if I were really lucky the hint of a little gentle cuddling an canoodling. "I am going to lick and suck that rock hard prick of yours until you pump thick come down my parched throat," she whispered fiercely.

I was speechless. Annabelle sat down and stared at me with the expression of a cat who's just caught a nice fresh mouse to play with.

"I don't know what Annabelle offered young Keith but it's left him gob-smacked." That was Mr. Briggs. At that precise moment I hated my boss, I hated him with a passion. If I was given the chance of kissing dear Trevor's wife again I would definitely squeeze her bum and her boobs this time: she had certainly afforded me plenty of opportunities upon the last. I was now the very centre of attention, every eye was focused upon me.

Fortunately another pair soon distracted the croud, they had to simulate sex with her led on her back knees pulled up to her chest. This would have been interesting in any event but with no knickers on it was quite a challenge for the poor woman not to expose herself too all and sundry. We watched hungrily, the women just as predatory as the men: it seems everyone revels in the misfortune of others. She retained her modesty, just, and they began he now hiding any chance of inadvertent exposure. To my shame I actually took pride in the fact that their performance was not a patch upon that that Annabelle and I delivered. I think Annabelle agreed because, as the woman cried "Oh my God," theatrically, over and over again, she winked at me.

Another general forfeit soon followed, 'The gentlemen are to remove their trousers and sit in just their underpants. Sounded all right to me until I realised that there would be no possibility of trying to disguise the fact that I had a towering, almost painfully stiff, erection. Instantly, I was really looking forwards to walking Annabelle home; at that moment I'd have walked the skinny old lady with the grey iron bun home if that's what it took to escape. Actually she was a game old bird and had given a really good performance of how she usually gave her husband a blow job. His reactions were pretty convincing too. A game pair of old birs.

I need not have worried all the men were trying to hide little tents. I hoped I would not have to simulate sex again, just underpants and no knickers might prove a little too realistic. Indeed, a man of about fifty, James, had to pretend to make love with his petite rolypoly wife, her straddling his lap. The aroma that permeated the room when he feigned his orgasm suggested that he was not acting. We were all very polite and pretended not to notice, though his wife went crimson from the roots of her hair down to the top of her bosom.

My final forfeit was to have Annabelle straddle me as we kissed like teenagers for a full three minutes. They left us to it and carried on with the game, well nearly so. When we broke for air a stern voice admonished, "you've only been at it for two minutes and ten seconds lad, get stuck back in there." That prolonged kiss eliminated any doubts that I might have had that Annabelle was as ravenous as I. As we had embraced she had guided one of my hands to her breasts and the other to her base pussy. Once I was settled she had slipped a hand down so and fondled my cock and balls gently.

The last of the general forfeits was finally chosen, the second half of the two parter. 'Ladies you have promised your partner something special later on, now tell him what he has to do to you first, in order to earn that pleasure.' I wondered if Annabelle had guessed what was to come because she whispered, "first you have to lick my pussy until I've had so many orgasms that I simply cannot take any more." Oh boy was I on a promise.

Annabelle's final forfeit was superficially the most simple of all but it proved challenging, 'tell us all a dirty secret.' For most of the couples this was an easy one: Jane and Martin had made love on a train once, Terry had fingered Susan to a climax at dinner, in front of her Mum and Dad. But Annabelle and I did not have any secrets, how could we? Finally I blurted out, "I can't wait to get Annabelle home tonight."

Tony our host, through tears of mirth and with a great deal of much exaggerated thigh slapping, objected. "That's hardly a secret! try again."

Annabelle attempted, "I've fancied Keith from the moment I saw him and I've been plotting how to seduce the poor boy ever since." The word boy ought to have been insulting but it made me harder still and my cock began to twitch visibly inside my pants. I prayed that no one was looking.

"Annabelle, that's not really a secret either," Dorothy protested. "You've been like a bitch on heat at every do you've both attended and..." She shut up abruptly; clearly she was about to reveal something that she knew she mustn't.

Instead of Annabelle flaring up, as I half expected, she smiled. "Thank's Dorothy, that was secret. When Keith and Christine paired up I was consumed with jealousy." And after Christine and I had been forced to go our separate ways, I reflected to myself, it had been Annabelle who had consoled and comforted me. Had endured my endless besotted accounts of our antics and adventures together. Indeed she'd encouraged me to reveal all, had discovered just how kinky Christine could be and... Annabelle knew all and still wanted me as her lover? I flipped form shame to amazement. Suddenly I knew just how the shark on the hook feels when it finally has to capitulate after a long and hard struggle. I was consumed with lust for an intelligent, imaginative, uninhibited and probably unprincipled woman who had been reeling me in steadily.

How did the evening end? It ended much as you would expect. I walked her home. We adopted a ridiculously fast pace, practically racing one another. Half way there she opened her handbag and proclaimed, "silly me I forgot to put my knickers back on," and handed me the concoction of frothy white lace whose gusset I had sniffed earlier. "I hope you remembered to put your trousers back on?"

"I did," I replied resignedly to her asinine query. At that particular moment said trousers were restricting my stiff shaft in a most pressingly uncomfortable manner. We did actually make it through her front door. She undid my pants and dragged me on down on top of her as she tumbled backwards onto the cold lino in her hall. I took her with her knees pressed to her chest and as I scabbarded my aching sword in of her hot moist slick sheath she cried aloud with relief and delight. I was grateful that she was so overwhelmed with lust that she came right away because the urgency of my passion robbed me of any hope of restraint or vestige of self control. We had been building tension all night and that near simultaneous orgasmic release was both equally explosive and equally rapid for both of us.

Just as soon as I was spent and my hips stopped their almost involuntary bucking she pushed me off of her, grabbed my hair tightly and crawled across the flood dragging me behind her into her front room. I was glad that she had a long front garden because, in our haste, we had not even bothered to pull the front door too. Annabelle also spotted or minor faux pas and giggled, "poor Mrs. Jenkins; she's insomniac and keeps binoculars in her bedroom. Bet the old goat's had a cardiac, she'll not have missed a stroke of that."

In the front Annabelle thrust me down into a chair, knelt before me and sucked me hard once more. "Not as big as doggy man but you'll just have to do. God that was fun. So do me again long, hard and slow and do it right this instant."

I didn't, well not immediately. Instead I pinned her down and peeled her garments away with a slow and sensuous predictability. She knew our destination alright but I made her catch the stopping train. As each strip of flesh was exposed I kissed or licked it. Plump torsos are generally so sensitive and Annabelle squirmed with ever intensifying lust as I paid compliment to the charms of the crooks of her elbows and her knees, the delights of her inner arms and the backs of her calves. As I sucked her fingers and toes she melted. When I tackled her belly and inner thighs she evaporated. I was not finished though. Oh no, not I, well not yet. She had to endure my licking her neck and nibbling her pendulous earlobes; the latter making her pussy pump quite audibly. I risked a probing finger and she was indecently moist, dripping in fact. Her response was to attempt to buck the insides of her hot humid slash against the hard hand that was projecting and guiding that delicately probing digit with an urgency that was frantic. Christine had taught me the pleasures and agonies of teasing all too well, 'no Annabelle, poor dear,' I thought, 'before I penetrate your hungry sex I still have to taunt your nipples for a little while.'

Annabelle had thought her red pouting nipples hard when I began. When I had finished licking and sucking upon those over-sensitised, swollen teats and those deeply crinkled, light brown areolae she had a new perspective upon the ecstasy and agony of stiffness. When I was done with her breasts she was already puffing like a grampus and I had not even started to tease her sex. It's amazing what you can do with a really randy woman and just two or three fingers. One pair of her lips were soon dribbling with lust and squelching with desire. The other pair, they were either panting with squalid desire or squealing with helpless frustration.

At long last I permitted her to savour the delight of me spearing her sex. Instant orgasm, a howled response to the very first thrust. What I had failed to anticipate was just how many times over she could repeat that pleasure. Christine had been randy but that night Annabelle was insatiable. Those orgasms arrived with increasing frequency until they abandoned all semblance of forming an orderly queue, jostling and fighting to wring sighs, moans, gurgles, groans and howls from her throat. When, as was inevitable, I lost control and convulsively pumped hot seed copiously for the second time she cursed me roundly, her grip of the vernacular truly impressive. To be fair to me she had had a good ten or minutes of orgasmic excess by that time, but she clearly did not consider this to be sufficient.

At least she was forced to permit me a brief respite from her desire. She locked the front door then returned to drag me up to her bedroom. This is no exaggeration, she simply slid her fingers through my hair, clutched determinedly and yanked hard. I was left to follow her as best I could. Finally, she permitted me to strip naked but the instant I was in her bed she slithered under the covers and sucked me hard for a third time. Once I she had rendered me capable it was good old missionary position. At last I did finally manage to satisfy her but my legs and calves were aching with the effort. Following her previous ministrations I had no chance of coming. I realise that the stags and stallions amongst you will consider this the behaviour of a wimp but you would have done no better: she was a human lemon squeezer she'd have left anyone running on zest alone. I made a mental note that for evermore I must be careful of middle aged spinsters, when their frustrations were released their pent up passion could be virtually boundless. Finally, she slumped, almost inert with her efforts. We slept the sleep of the dead.

It was, according to her clock, half past three in the morning when Annabelle awoke me demanding more sex. Her approach had been simplicity itself, she sucked and licked on my limp and exhausted member until it and I were sufficiently roused and able. Confused and groggy - true enough - but still just about roused and able. I had only ever encountered such insatiable lust once before; that had been the night when a girlfriend and I had surrendered our virginities to one another. Annabelle wanted me deep inside of her and curled her knees to her chest so that I could achieve a more complete penetration. I soon learned that at the end of each stroke I should ram my pubis hard against her mons: that really made her shriek with appreciation. Had she had neighbours they would definitely now be awake and explicitly aware of exactly what was going on next door. I tried to count her orgasms but in the end I lost track. Lots. At least I now had no worries about keeping going for ever. Well so I had imagined; yet eventually I too spasmed. I don't expect that much dribbled out, indeed it was possibly the legendary dry hump, but the intensity of the sensation was exquisite.

The morning! In the morning Annabelle expected us to partake of the licking and sucking we had promised one another, or rather that she had promised me, the previous evening. Actually she did not expect at all, she demanded it. I protested but she just rolled me on my back and straddled my face, "get that tongue of yours buried and busy in that hot slot of mine or you'll be smothered boy." She smelt of stale sex and perspiration but if I displayed anything less than unbridled commitment and uncontained enthusiasm she would lean forwards and bury my nose in her silky pubes leaving me unable to breath. She came, once, twice, thrice; I had seen this performance before, I gave up counting and licked for dear life. It felt like an eternity before, at long last, she knelt up and released me.

She did keep her promise, too. She sucked and licked the throbbing helmet of my, by that time, well stiffened shaft. As she did this she stroked the slack in my foreskin up and down its stalk. I thought I would be dry but obviously some magic had been worked in my sleep and I splattered copious quantities of hot, thick white gloop down her throat; spasm after spasm of the sticky smelly stuff. When I was done she grabbed me by the hair again, rammed my head back determinedly and kissed me hard on the mouth, forcing me to taste my own come.