The Touch Ch. 41

"Oh-o-o-o-o, Yes, yes..." She moaned the pleasure obviously as good for her as it was for me.

I instinctively started to thrust upwards to meet her down strokes but she pressed down on my hips with her hands.

"No! Just lay still... I want to make love to you this time..."

She settled back down over me and slowly started to revolve her hips, the circular movement causing my prick to rotate within her love tunnel the most erotic experience akin to the best ever blow job but much, much better. Gradually her movement became faster and more intensive, her mouth fell open a fraction and she began to lick her top lip the tiny pink tip of her tongue darting across her lips; she was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling and her nipples were stiff with lust, the aureoles pink and engorged. The tiny twitching movement that I was making inside her love tunnel was beginning to arouse her again and I could feel the walls of her vagina starting to contract and ripple around my cock squeezing it towards another ejaculation. As I raced towards eruption I could not hold off any longer and thrust my hips upwards ramming my prick into her violently.

"Oh fuck... I am going to cum again!" I gasped

Her response was to impale herself even harder onto my stiff rod, humping her hips furiously and clawing at the cheeks of my arse and trying to pull me even deeper into her by clamping her knees even tighter around my waist and dropping forward so that her little hot nipples brushed against my chest. She was making small whimpering, gasps, then she was giggling furiously and pumping herself onto me so hard that I was afraid I would damage her with the totally rock hard erection she was inducing.

"Oh yes, yes, please do it... do it inside me... I so love your hot juice filling me...!"

There was no way of earth that I could hold back any longer and as she hammered herself down my length I erupted, firing my load into her in violent spurts. My prick was throbbing and jerking but Gwen continued to ram herself over me until I felt her explode inside with a hot moist rippling that tore one final squirt of cum from me leaving the tip of my prick battered and numb.

We were both breathless and gasping. Her lovely face was flushed and her honey blonde hair had come free of its neat little pony tail and hung damply around her face. Tears were coursing down her cheeks in torrents but she was softly laughing with joy.

We lay there together bodies entwined my dick still inside her kissing slowly and languorously for a long time our hands exploring each other's bodies. I almost didn't realise that my prick had begun to harden again until I felt her pussy begin to ripple around my forming erection.

"Oh, my darling, I think I'm go to ... Oh yes, Oh yes!" she panted. Her legs clamped even more tightly around me, pulling me into her and I felt the hot moist walls of her vagina start to quiver and flutter around my prick which was so sensitised that I was only able to hold back, because she had drained me dry twice already that evening. We pumped at each other furiously with short hard thrusts as we hammered our way quickly to joint climax, both releasing at the same moment, gasping and kissing as my jizz spurted again deep into her pulsing wetness.

We awoke still wrapped in one another's arms when the dawn's light filtered through the thin hotel curtains and the alarm on my watch pinged five o'clock. I made both of us instant coffee whilst Gwen showered and dressed and then took my shower and pulled on my clothes and we made our way down to the entrance lobby. The desk clerk was not at his seat so I dropped the keys into a box on the desk and we let ourselves out and made our way back to Gwen's car.

"You can drive...my legs are like jelly..." she whimpered tossing me the keys.

"That's not fair...I was the one who got raped!" I retorted.

"Don't argue with your mother... You might get a slap..." She chuckled in mock annoyance.

I started the car and drove onto the main road.

"About this slapping idea,,,,, when we get home, can we try..."

"Pervert!"

We didn't get to try it but I was still late into work that morning.

Despite my initial apprehensions Caroline's party on the Saturday evening turned out to be quite a pleasant diversion. It was certainly very much more up market than I had anticipated. She had arranged for a London catering company to come in to do the buffet and barbeque, complete with a grill chef and waitresses. A small gazebo had been erected on the patio area covering a mobile bar with a uniformed barman. There was a professional DJ set up in one corner of the garden by the little tool shed who was really doing nothing more than keep up a steady flow of fairly innocuous mood music played at a level which would not annoy the neighbourhood. She had even hired a discreet Porta-Loo Cabin which had been erected at the side of the garage concealed behind a screen of trellis covered with artificial foliage for the gentlemen to use. For me it was a useful pointer to the type of use she would probably be making of her London roof garden and I made a mental note to make some small amendments to my original designs.

I had driven over to Becca's house on Saturday morning to collect the watercolour of Caroline's garden. It was absolutely superb, I never ceased to be amazed at Becca's talent as an artist. She had taken the painting into Salisbury and had it framed and glazed and was lending Caroline an old easel on which it could be displayed for the evening. It was my hope that with Caroline's patronage she might attract further commissions from other wealthy city types and gain recognition for her work. It had become fashionable over the past couple of years for the nouveau riche high flyers in the City, bankers and stockbrokers, to commission paintings of their country houses, office buildings and even their cars as a minor status symbol. Mostly they tended to seek out unknown artists from St. Ives and Newlyn in Cornwall but many had already been impressed with Becca's paintings that Caroline had hung in her office in London.

Caroline had taken a trip into Salisbury when I arrived at her house with the painting and so I handed it to Sofia, Caroline's Polish housekeeper who I had met at her London flat and seemed to be in charge of the party arrangements. Sofia was quite tall, probably about 5'9" and slender with a nicely rounded arse, narrow waist and small but shapely pointed tits. Her face was not what you would call pretty but was strikingly handsome, perhaps more so because she wore no make-up except for a pale red lipstick, her hair was very dark and pulled back in a long neat pony tail tied with a simple black bootlace ribbon. She was wearing a simple black tee-shirt and tight fitting black denim jeans which hugged her shapely thighs.

"Hello again, Mr. Riley...it is good to see you..." She had a slight Polish accent and her voice was deep and throaty and quite sexy. She extended her hand and we briefly shook, something that British women seldom do as a social greeting. I placed the easel and painting in a corner of the living room by the front window where she indicated and then made my way back to the door. I needed to get back to work and wanted to get away before Caroline got home. We had become quite friendly but she was clingy and demanding and I did not want to get caught for the rest of the morning and maybe lunchtime.

"Will you be at the party tonight? I asked Sofia conversationally.

"Oh yes," she replied and laughed, "She works me very hard this morning... But I am as a guest tonight..."

Sofia was very attractive but I did not believe that she was the slightest bit interested in me...not only was she several years older but I suspected that she was in fact gay. I knew that Caroline had boyfriends and she and I had flirted and even hovered on the brink of becoming physical but there was a nagging suspicion in the back of my mind that despite her reputation as a man-eater, Ms. Caroline Brookes might actually be a 'switch hitter', swinging both ways. Little pointers that I had picked up talking to Sophia in London had me thinking that the two women were in fact a lot closer than would appear on the surface.

"I will see you tonight then..." I threw at her as I departed. The party should be fairly harmless even for somebody such as myself whose life was guided by his dick and was not safe to be let loose amongst women. I was escorting Becca as a business colleague, I knew none of the other guests and would not risk hitting upon any women at the party who might be close friends to Caroline or potential clients for the garden centre, best not to mix business and sex.

We had agreed that Becca would pick me up from home at 8 pm in her car, for two main reasons. Firstly she was hesitant to attend the party in the first place and having her own transport meant that she could leave at any time of her own choice ... It was likely that I would also be only too glad to find and excuse to depart early. I am not a party animal I am really not that keen on large gatherings, I didn't consider myself very skilled at amiable conversation, wasn't keen on dancing and seldom got socially drunk amongst strangers. I really preferred not to drink much at all, but if I did then if was usually furiously with the few, rather than foolishly with the flock. The second reason was a more practical one... I anticipated that not only Caroline's drive, but most of the kerbside parking on her road would be taken up with the cars of her guests and my caravanette was a large vehicle to try and get parked in a crowded residential street. I was proved right. The street on either side of Caroline's house was packed with top of the range vehicles by the time that we arrived and Becca decided to park her little Beetle just around the corner and walk the hundred yards or so to the house.

The party crowd turned out to be more amiable and laid back than I had anticipated. There were about fifty guests, mostly men and women who were Caroline's business associates in the banking and financial services industry and their partners and were nearly all in their mid-twenties or early thirties, young upwardly mobile financial whizz kids. The cars that were parked in the drive and along the roadside were all high end BMWs, Audis and the like, there was even a brand new Bentley with a uniformed chauffeur sitting in the driver's seat.

Caroline as ever played the vivacious and gushing hostess and made a great thing of introducing Becca and I to each of her guests in turn eulogising our talents and in fact I was surprised at the level of interest that many of her guests showed and I was asked for my business card so many times that by the end of the evening I had completely exhausted the small bundle that I had stuffed into my jacket pocket. Whilst some of the guests lived in and around London during the working week many, like Caroline, had weekend homes in Wiltshire, Berkshire and Hampshire.

Becca had been befriended by an older woman, the wife of Caroline's company chairman who was chaperoning her around the various clusters of yuppies and who appeared to have a personal interest and knowledge of art, she seemed to be in safe hands and so I grabbed myself a whisky from the bar and found a quiet corner in which to stand.

"May I join you?" The speaker was a man in his late-sixties, slightly under six-foot tall, with waved silver hair and dressed in expensively smart fawn casual trousers and a grey golf shirt beneath a light weight cream and grey Pringle sweater. The cost of his tooled leather belt and soft woven loafers would probably have absorbed most of an average man's salary for a month. He held a matching tumbler of amber liquid to mine in one hand and extended the other. "Kenneth Callaghan...er Kenneth... my wife is off giving your artist friend the tour of the 'Wunderkind' so I thought I would pop over and have a chat... as this pack of cash-hounds seem to have stopped harassing you for a time..."

"Jamie Riley...I managed Caroline's garden project for De Vere Garden Centre Ltd..." I introduced myself. His handshake was warm and soft but surprisingly strong, there was a lot of hidden muscle, probably a regular golf player, but definitely not a manual worker.

"Yes." He said smiling, "I know quite a bit about you, young man. As Maggie de Vere's nephew that would make you Gareth Grainger's grandson and Arthur Grainger's great-nephew, yes...?" I was a bit taken by surprise and just nodded. "I knew your grandfather well..." He continued. "He was my mentor when I was a very junior broker in his company when I left the army after the war in 1948... We kept in touch until he died and I still have lunch with Arthur occasionally."

I guess that I should not have been surprised both my grandfather and his brother were well known in financial circles. Uncle Arthur was my late grandfather's twin brother, Gwen and Maggie's uncle and my great-uncle, he was late seventies now and lived in a large house on the Outer Circle of Regent's Park with his eccentric wife Aunt Laura, but was still a really sharp businessman and was the non-executive secretary of De Vere Garden Centres Ltd. His twin sons were both stockbrokers.

"Your name has cropped up a couple of times recently..." He told me, "Arthur Grainger informed me about your going into partnership with your Aunt... Well done...Quite an achievement for such a young fella..eh.." he took my elbow and steered me towards the bar and motioned for the barman to splash further large measures of the 20 year old malt whisky into our glasses.

"Actually it is a family firm..." I said, "Maggie and I are joint managing directors as we run the place, my sister is the office manager and training to take over as company accountant, and my mother Gwen and Maggie's two daughters are all shareholders. Maggie and I see the business as an investment in the family future."

"You were also pointed out to me by Georgia Craven at the Royal Opera House a couple of months ago, I believe that you were there for the ballet with your mother..." Kenneth went on... "I understand that you are also landscaping the grounds at Craven Manor... Bloody good job too... lovely place but her father let it go to ruin... I haven't been down there for at least twenty years but Georgia has invited Clarissa and I for a weekend and so I shall get the chance to see more of your work then..."

We stood talking for some time, just social chit-chat, the merits of various golf courses, aspects of my work and future plans. Kenneth had a sweeping breadth of knowledge about all sorts of subjects and we discovered a mutual interest in local archaeology he had participated in several well-known digs around Salisbury plain as a history student whilst at university.

I was beginning to get the impression that this man had a mind like a steel trap, he missed nothing and made it his business to know everything. He took hold of my elbow and was guiding me deftly between the groups of chatting financiers who stepped aside for him deferentially. He drew me towards a small gathering which consisted of Becca, Caroline, Clarissa Callaghan and Sofia. "I am returning Mr. Riley to your care Caroline..." He announced, then turned to his wife, "Get your boots pulled up Clara... Time to hit the road, I think. Sorry to break up the party Caroline but it is a long drive up to Suffolk and my chauffeur gets cranky if I keep him up too late... Super party...Good night Jamie...I shall be in touch..." Becca gave his wife a courtesy air kiss and then Caroline linked arms with both of them and walked them out to the drive and the parked Bentley.

"It looks as though you made an impression with Lord Westlake," Becca remarked then obviously saw the look of amazement on my face, "Oh, didn't you know... That was the Baron and Lady Westlake... such a lovely couple...Clara is really sweet...he is chairman of the bank of course..."

"Wow, he is such a nice guy...he knew my grandfather..." I said still a little bit taken aback.

"Jamie, my dear..." Becca said quietly. "I think that I ought to be going as well...I told Leslie that I would be back about ten o'clock and it is now nearly eleven. Don't feel that you have to leave yet if you don't wish to..."

"I will be most happy to give you a ride to your home, Jamie... I must need to return to London tonight..." Sofia added.

I walked Becca back to her car after she had made her farewells to Caroline. "Thank you Jamie dear... I enjoyed the evening," she said as we stood beside her Beetle. "It was really nice to socialize with nice people and talk about things other than fishing...Lady Clara has invited me to their country house in Suffolk...lots of Gainsborough landscapes to paint..."

"They seemed to be a pleasant crowd," I replied. "Did any of them show any interest in your work?"

"Oh yes, three of the women gave me their cards and want to discuss having watercolours painted of their properties... I find it incredible...I never imagined that there would be a demand..."

"Well you are very talented..." We were out of sight of Caroline's property screened by a high privet hedge and I stepped up to her and put my arms around her waist, "In many ways..."

"Oh dear...perhaps you should have brought Vera after all..." She sighed as our lips met in a moist gentle kiss. She broke away before our bodies had a chance to drag us down the slippery slope of desire and held me at arm's length. "As much as I would love to find somewhere to make love... I really must go home... And you should go back to the party." She smiled.

"OK if you insist..." I whispered, but next week we must discuss making a jaunt up to London so that you can see Caroline's flat and look at the site for the roof garden...I have drawn up the initial plans and you could do some artist's impressions again... we could make it an overnight trip and maybe take in dinner and a show...?"

"Oh yes, that would be lovely..." We kissed again and she got into her car and wound down the window. "Give me a call...Jamie dear," she said and then waved and pulled away.

I strolled back towards Caroline's house. There were fewer cars in the road, obviously most of the guest were leaving early, perhaps most had long distances to drive, London is 90 miles away from Salisbury a good two hours' drive even at night and some perhaps were going on to night spots in Reading or Windsor. Caroline was in her front drive saying goodbye to some of her guests, I glanced at my watch, it was then nearly eleven thirty, I think that she saw my gesture and leaned over and tapped my wrist.

"Don't go yet Jamie..." she hissed. "This lot are now going, so stay and have a nightcap with Sofia and me...we can have a look at the plans for the roof garden."

I lit a cigarette and wandered down the garden subconsciously checking for any damage to the lawn and picking paper serviettes and cigarette stubs out of the flower beds. The caterers were packing up quickly and efficiently, I guess that they wanted to get back to London as well. A couple of departing visitors wished me a 'Good Night' as they passed heading towards the drive and their cars until there was only one couple left standing by the summer house, Caroline and a guy that I recognised form a brief encounter here at Caroline's house one morning. Whoever the guy was he had stayed the night, probably a business acquaintance, or maybe her regular lover. They were obviously arguing but I was right up to them before I realised and it was then too late to make a U-turn and walk away.

"So what the fuck am I supposed to do...!" The guy was complaining in an arrogant whine. "Morris drove me down and so I haven't got a motor to get home... you must either let me stay here or lend me your car to drive back to Wimbledon..."