The Lady of the Manor Ch. 01

And it is upon the subject of rugby that I'm writing to ask your help. It's the Calcutta Cup this Saturday afternoon, as I'm sure you are aware. I used to watch this with my husband and he used to try to explain the rules to me though I don't think he was very well acquainted with them himself, to be honest. I'm planning on watching the match this Saturday and I wondered if I might prevail upon you to watch it with me and tell me what's going on? I know it's a terrible imposition and it's absolutely fine if you can't but if you could it would be wonderful to have the veil of ignorance lifted by somebody who actually knows the rules.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Caroline

Well, I thought, there it was. It couldn't be clearer. I thought about it for ten minutes then I sent a text message to the mobile phone number she'd supplied to say that I would be delighted to watch the match with her on Saturday afternoon and would do my best to explain the play. She replied five minutes later thanking me and saying that she was looking forward to Saturday...

I rang the doorbell of Baythorpe Manor just after one-thirty on Saturday afternoon; kick-off was at two o'clock. The Viscountess answered the door herself, explaining that there were few, if any, staff around at weekends and there were none this afternoon. 'So I've been shopping for drinks and snacks myself,' she said, proudly, seeming to forget that the rest of us did this as a matter of course.

She showed me up to her private sitting room and invited me to take off my shoes and make myself comfortable. As I'd assumed it was entirely informal, I had risked jeans and a rugby shirt. This turned out to be the correct choice; Caroline was also dressed casually in tight black jeans and a loose cotton blouse. She was, however, carefully made up, her ash-blonde hair shining, her lips and fingernails a pale pink.

'I got some beer in,' she began. 'It seems better suited to watching a rugby match. I don't know if you prefer bitter or lager so I got some of each. I'm on wine, I'm afraid; I don't like the taste of beer.' I opted for a bottle of a popular real ale and she poured herself a glass of a Malbec and we sat down. I noticed that the room had been subtly rearranged to place a two-seater settee in front of the television, albeit a generous two-seater. This meant that we were sitting about eighteen inches apart and I could smell her scent. It reminded me of the honeysuckle in the hedgerows in summer.

The first half was unremarkable, both on screen and off. I explained the less well-known terms like "ruck" and "maul" and explained why the referee was awarding penalties and scrums. Caroline listened intently, sipping her wine. At the break England was ahead by three points and the bottle of Malbec was about a third empty; I'd nearly finished my beer. Caroline disappeared for a few minutes -- presumably the aristocracy also have to go to the toilet -- and got me another bottle on her way back. I fancied that when she sat down again she was closer to me than she had been.

The second half was more exciting, both on screen and off. Scotland started the second half with a drop goal and the play was end to end then for the next thirty-five minutes. The level in the bottle of Malbec dropped to a third and Caroline became excited and involved with the play, flexing her new-found knowledge. She also shuffled a bit closer. Just before the end of the match she got up to fetch me another beer. I didn't really want one and she hadn't asked but when she sat down again she was right next to me; I could feel the pressure and warmth of her thigh against mine. The erection that I'd been trying to suppress for the past hour now grew unchecked and uncomfortable in my jeans. It seemed clear to me that she was making a pass at me but...

The eighty minutes was up when the English number eleven broke free and roared through the Scottish half to score a try between the posts and win the match and the Calcutta Cup. Decorum forgotten I was cheering him loudly as he ran and Caroline was screaming encouragement at the screen. The crowd at Twickenham erupted as the ball hit the ground and Viscountess Baythorpe flung her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I responded by putting my arms around her, pressing her to me, feeling her breasts squashed against my chest. The embrace lasted for about five seconds before I loosened my arms and she hers. We stared at each other, our faces maybe a foot apart, then we were kissing. Not tenderly, not in a gentle, exploratory way, but fiercely, passionately, lips mashed together, mouths open, tongue seeking tongue, tasting each other's saliva, arms tight around each other. Then Caroline was breaking free, pulling my rugby shirt over my head, kissing me again, running her hands over my bare back, scraping her nails over my skin. I started to pull her blouse from her skirt but she stopped me by standing up.

She took my hand and pulled me up. 'Come with me.' I followed her through a door at the far end of the sitting room that led to her bedroom. I wasn't noticing much about my surroundings at that point but the giant four-poster bed with it's dark-red silk hangings dominated the room. She kicked the door shut and threw herself at me, kissing me and stroking the hair on my chest, running her hands over my abdomen. Then she broke free again and started undressing, tearing at her clothes, flinging the blouse aside, rolling her jeans down over her bare feet, unhooking her bra. I got my jeans and socks off in record time and watched her as she stripped her panties off and scrambled onto the bed, lying down on her back, legs wide open. My cock was iron-hard and seeping liquid into my underpants. I stripped them off and climbed onto the bed with Caroline. 'Just have me,' she breathed urgently. 'I just need you inside me.'

Matching her urgency I knelt between her legs and found the entrance to her vagina with my swollen and purple glans. I thrust in, hoping that she really was ready. And she was: she was sopping wet and my seven inches of rigid meat went in like a hydraulic piston. She opened her mouth and gave a great groan and I saw, inconsequentially, that she had fillings in her upper molars. Then I stopped noticing anything except my cock ramming in and out of her and her breasts heaving up and down on her chest the areola dark pink, the nipples standing out. This wasn't a tender coming together, this was a good, hard fuck.

It was a warm afternoon and I was soon bathed in sweat. It formed on my back and chest and beaded on my forehead as I thrust into the dowager Viscountess and she gasped and cried out beneath me.

Caroline came first, with a great scream, her hands slippery on my back, her nails digging in painfully. Her vaginal muscles clamped down on me and I let my orgasm crash down on me, wave after wave, jet after jet, spurting into her cunt. I think I cried out too and she said: 'yes darling! Yes!'

Afterwards I climbed off her and we lay side by side on the bed, not touching. 'I think we both needed that,' she said, at length.

I turned onto my side, supporting myself on one elbow, and looked at her. She looked back, naked and unashamed. Nor was there any reason why she should be ashamed, at least, not of her body. Her figure was as good as her clothes had hinted: long, slim legs, golden-brown labia beneath a bush of pubic hair, shot with grey, taut stomach and round breasts, maybe not as firm as they once had been but better than many a younger woman. Indeed, there were few signs of her age. The beginnings of wrinkles on her upper arms, faint stretch marks on her breasts and that slight looseness of skin under her chin.

'I presume you knew when you accepted my invitation this afternoon that I would make a pass at you,' she said, unexpectedly.

'Yes,' I replied, 'I thought you probably would.'

'And you still came.' She gave me a little grateful smile. 'I wouldn't want you to think that I make a habit of seducing younger men,' she went on. 'Believe it or not this is the first time I've had sex since before my husband died.' She smiled that wide smile of hers. 'I suppose you think that I should be off with one of the local worthies, closer to my own age. Well I'm not going to. The truth is that I haven't had a lot of fun in my life for a very long time and I've decided that that's going to have to change. So a young, fit, handsome young rugby player on my doorstep was a gift from heaven and far too good an opportunity to miss.' She paused. 'Do you think I'm awful?'

I selected my words carefully. 'I think,' I began, 'that you are an interesting, sexy and desirable older woman and I am a lucky young man to have been seduced by you.'

'Well you didn't take much seducing!'

'So what now?' I asked.

'Well, that rather depends on you,' she replied. 'I would like us to have a relationship. Of course it will have to be a secret relationship, I'm sure you appreciate that.'

'Can't be seen to be bonking the hoi polloi,' I grinned.

'No, you idiot, the age difference. But that aside, I think we could have a lot of fun together, if that's what you'd like to do. And I wouldn't expect you to be completely faithful; you'll want a girlfriend of your own age, if you haven't already got one. I can't believe I haven't asked you that already,' she laughed.

I felt light-headed. Was the dowager Viscountess really inviting me to be her secret lover? It was like a Mills and Boon novel. But hey, she really was sexy and the more I saw of her the more I liked her. She was right, we really could have some fun together.

Caroline roused herself. 'Do you mind if I smoke?'

'No, of course not.'

'I'm gasping for one,' she said, the statement sounding odd when delivered in her cut-glass tones. I didn't want to stink of cigarettes when we first kissed,' she explained, getting up and padding over to a table under the window where there was a cigarette packet, lighter and ashtray. She lit one and inhaled deeply and stood there with her back to me, looking out over the formal gardens. After a few drags she stubbed it out and went through a door on the other side of the room. I guessed this was a bathroom, a fact confirmed when she reappeared and scrambled back onto the bed with me smelling of smoke and toothpaste.

We kissed, gently, this time, and I started stroking her breasts and running my fingers lightly down her stomach towards her crotch. Slightly to my surprise Caroline took my hand before it reached her pussy. 'I'm sorry Thomas, there's nothing I'd like more than to make love with you again, slowly and properly... But I'm due at the Weatherleys for dinner in a little under one hour and I don't just want a quick shag. The next time I want it to take absolutely hours!'

'And when will that be?' I asked, hiding my disappointment.

She stroked my face. 'We are going to have to be very careful. It really wouldn't be in either of our interests if knowledge of our... liaison were to become public. This is going to sound really awful but I think the only way it can work is if I call on you when I'm available and it's safe to come over and if you're available and willing then great and if not then there'll be another time. I promise that I'll make every effort to see you as often as I can. And before you ask, yes, I will be exclusively yours, in bed.

And that was the start of it. I went home soon after that, in a bit of a daze, and I didn't hear anything from Caroline until the following Sunday afternoon when my phone pinged its "message received" tone.

Dear Thomas,

I'm sorry for the short notice but I'm unexpectedly free this evening (and night!). I hope you can come over. Anytime after seven-thirty would be perfect.

Caroline xxx

"And night", I thought. Wow. I responded with my assent straightaway and then spent the next half an hour wandering aimlessly through the house examining the prospect of spending a whole night in bed with Viscountess Baythorpe.

I rang the bell at seven-thirty-one and Caroline opened the door. She was wearing a dark-green woollen dress, similar to the grey one. We kissed briefly and I followed her up the stairs to her sitting room noticing on the way, and with a delicious tingling in my stomach, that she was wearing seamed stockings. I was willing to bet she didn't wear them outside Baythorpe Manor, so she must have dressed up especially for me. The thought turned me on even more; my erection had started growing on the walk from my house. Now it was straining at the leash.

In her sitting room she poured drinks; whisky for me and a pink gin for her. We sat sipping them on the settee for a few minutes while Caroline told me what she'd been doing over the past few days and asked me what I had been doing. She was carefully made up with dark-red lipstick and matching nail varnish and I thought she looked sensational. Suddenly she stopped. 'This is silly. Let's go to bed.'

In her bedroom we came together and kissed long and tenderly, a kiss of gentle exploration, tongues flicking in and out, sucking on lips, tasting each other's saliva, running our hands over each other's necks and backs and hips. Then we undressed each other. Very slowly and teasingly, with lots of kissing in between. I unzipped her dress and stripped it slowly down her body, revealing her black garter belt and panties. She stepped out of it and undid my shirt buttons, slipping it off my shoulders to join her dress on the floor. Then it was my belt buckle and zip and my trousers were around my ankles and she was on her knees telling me to lift a foot so she could get my sock and trouser leg off. Then I took her bra off and lowered my head to suckle her stiff nipples, making her arch her back and thrust her breasts at me. Disengaging gently she knelt and put her thumbs in the waistband of my underpants and pulled them down, my erection springing up and nearly hitting her in the face. I stepped out of my Y-fronts as she took my shaft in one hand, her slim fingers grasped lightly around its girth, her head going down and taking my glans in my mouth and rubbing her lips all around it, tasting my sticky secretions, licking the clear fluid up, licking my shaft, running her tongue up and down it then taking me in her mouth again. I stood there weakly, my legs shaking, my eyes half closed.

Then it was her turn as she stood, kissed me again, her lips salty with my juices, took her panties off and went and sat on the edge of the bed, lying back with her legs apart, clutching her beautiful, slim, stocking-clad ankles in her red-tipped fingers. I knelt between her legs and took in the sight and scent of her pussy. The outer lips of her vulva had parted to show a sliver of pink flesh, glistening with juices. I breathed her aroma deeply and lowered my face to her titled cunt, using the tip of my tongue to trace her labia up and down, slipping inside and tasting her lubrication, seeking her clitoris, hearing her gasp and moan above me. She tasted musky and sweet and delicious and I felt I could spend the whole evening there, eating her out. I put my tongue into her vaginal entrance as far as I could get it then licked slowly upwards, finding her sensitive little bud and sucking it into my mouth.

'Stop, darling,' she breathed, and come up here with me.' I climbed onto the bed and we kissed again, with more urgency this time, mashing our lips together my hands on her breasts, then her pussy, sliding my fingers in; two at first then three... Caroline stopped me by clamping my hand with her thighs. She pushed me onto my back and straddled me, finding my erection, guiding it to her cunt, sliding down my shaft until our pelvises ground together, riding me gently, her fingers on my chest, her lacquered nails digging into me. I put my hands on her hips and helped her as she rocked backwards and forwards, her eyes closed, mouth half open, breathing deeply.

This wasn't my favourite position but I knew that many women found it deeply satisfying and I let the Viscountess ride me for long minutes, her climax building slowly, her breathing getting faster and shallower. Then she started to come: the tendons in her neck stood out and she gave a deep groan and started bucking her hips backwards and forwards savagely, her nails digging painfully into my pectoral muscles. I let her ride her orgasm out, slowing down until she collapsed over me and I held her tightly, stroking her hair and kissing her cheeks and ears. Then she rolled off me and I knelt over her, parting her legs, thrusting my meat into her sopping cunt and fucking her with long, hard strokes. She cried out, her eyes wet with tears, her mascara a mess on her cheeks, her lipstick smudged, and I thrust into her ruthlessly.

I felt the tingling begin in my balls and start to spread to my cock and run up my spine so I stopped and withdrew, ordering Caroline to turn over. She scrambled onto her hands and knees before me and I took my cock in hand and guided it to her sopping twat. She groaned again as I shoved it right in and started fucking her hard, my hands on her hips. She gripped handfuls of the counterpane and I could feel her thrust back at me. I used my hands to part her buttocks to reveal her anus, knotted and puckered, a rosy-brown colour. But now my orgasm was building again so I slipped out and turned Caroline over, practically throwing her on her back before ramming myself into her again. I held her arms down and mashed my lips against hers as my orgasm crashed through me, zinging through my brain and turning my guts to jelly. I pumped jet after jet of my hot spunk into my aristocratic lover and she bit at my lips and hooked her stockinged legs over mine and arched her back to meet my thrusts.

Afterwards we lay together, the sweat drying on our bodies, breathing and heartbeats returning to normal levels. The Viscountess turned towards me and ran her hands over my chest, lightly touching the welts she'd made with her nails. 'Did I hurt you?'

'Well, it stung a bit,' I admitted.

'Sorry. I got a bit carried away. It was a very powerful climax.' She paused, still stroking my chest. 'Then I had a second one when you were a bit rough with me,' she said, quietly.

'I think I got a bit carried away too. Sorry if I was rough.'

'Oh, no. Don't be sorry. I... I really enjoyed it.'

We got up after that and showered and went and scavenged some supper in the big kitchen at the back of the house. I was surprised how little Caroline knew of the contents of her own kitchen cupboards but she told me that the cook and the maid did all the food purchasing and preparation. 'Not much point in being a bloody Viscountess if you have to cook your own meals,' she said, laughing.

After that we watched the television for an hour. Or at least, the television was on but we saw very little of it, being engaged in kissing and fondling each other. Then we went back to bed and made love again. Very gently and tenderly this time. The slowness of our pleasure and the intimacy of our kissing and touching was a perfect complement to the raw sex of earlier. I spent long minutes masturbating Caroline and she, in turn, brought me to the brink of climax with her mouth and her fingers, stroking my testicles and exploring further, running a stray fingertip over my anus. When we came it was almost in synchronisation: she started first, writhing and moaning, her vagina clamping my prick in a velvet grasp. This triggered me and I had my second orgasm of the night: less intense, but longer and sweeter and we kissed as we came and it was almost too good to be true. And after that we slept, in her big four-poster in her ancestral home.

Reality kicked back in at six o'clock the following morning when Caroline, in the nicest possible way, threw me out. 'I'm really sorry, Thomas, but Claire gets here at seven, sometimes earlier.' She kissed me quickly on the lips before practically shoving me through the door. 'I'll be in touch,' were her parting words.