0 comments/ 21580 views/ 9 favorites A Father and Son Fuck Ch. 01 By: mandywilluk2000 My white blouse was undone nearly all the way down the front. One of my breasts had been eased out of its cup and my fiercely hardened nipple was being sucked. I was lying back in the corner of the sofa in the small lounge off the kitchen, what we called the TV room. He was half lying on me so that his evident erection was pressing suggestively into my upper leg. His hand had rested tentatively and enquiringly on my leg just above my knee a few moments ago. Seeing there was no resistance, he had slowly moved that up my leg so that now, as his tongue explored the inside of my mouth, it was pressing right against my jeans covered pussy. "I think it might be time for us to go to bed don't you Peter?" I whispered looking into his eyes. * Life had moved on. I could hardly believe just how much. Sara, my daughter was 22, at Durham University reading English and the big five oh was roaring towards me at what seemed an increasing rate of speed. I had landed a fantastic job in an ad agency owned by an old flame from before I even knew Kevin. I still lived in London Docklands, played golf and a little tennis, went to the gym two or three times a week and was a devoted shopaholic. Kevin, my ex, from whom amazingly it seemed I had been parted for almost ten years was still around and we had become good friends, but then we had always been that. He still had a thing about younger women, but generously shared himself around with us 'ordinary mortals' as well; we had become fuckbuddies. We sometimes talked about getting back together permanently, but we both knew that wouldn't work, so nothing happened other than the occasional fuck. He was on his way to making his second or third fortune. After selling the original business, we had owned jointly and losing a bundle in the Spanish property crash, he had started on an online gambling company that he was preparing to sell for many, many millions. So life generally, was good. I had been fortunate with my investments and had avoided many of the 'car crashes' post the 2009 credit crunch. Dockland property prices had remained fairly resilient and were now on the up again and the silly sods at the ad agency were paying me a fortune to run their copywriting throughout Europe. Being financially secure and knowing that I could provide comfortably for Sara for the rest of her life if need be was a great weight off my shoulders and made life easier. There were, of course, some downsides. Between school and uni, Sara had a gap year where she travelled the world with three friends meeting other groups in such far-flung places as Vietnam, China, Australia and Peru. She was away for an agonisingly long nine months. Although we had met up for a few days in LA, I missed her so badly that I seriously wondered how I would cope when she went to Durham. Now she was there I found out and it was tough, but I managed. Sex and relationships were an issue. Until very recently I had not felt able or inclined to look for, or enter into longer-term relationships. I still felt uncomfortable making the level of commitment, or letting myself become as emotionally dependent as I had been with Kevin. Nevertheless, I needed and badly wanted sex. It seemed that as I got older I wanted more. And that was not just in quantity and frequency, but also in variety and creativity. I, though, pretty much had over experimenting with other women. Although I am a firm believer in that everybody would dabble in same gender sex if they could overcome the way society, particularly the church, has conditioned them, it just became too complicated. I was also very worried about Sara's reaction if it came out and the chances of that increases as one 'plays' nearer to home as I had done with a girl at the tennis club and a married woman at the golf club. That said, I knew very well that if a totally safe opportunity presented itself then I would be unlikely to decline. On my travels round Europe and the States, an opportunity now and then would seem to appear, but none had come through to fruition, well not yet. Fortunately, even though I say it myself, I had held onto my looks and figure. Despite being in my late forties, I was still wrinkle-free and there were no signs of cellulite. My work at the gym largely overcame the effects of my laziness after Sara was born and the slight paunch on my tum had not changed in years. I have always had the tendency to put on weight and since the divorce; it has varied from around one thirty up to near one fifty pounds. Whilst I have got used to and really do not mind my body being referred to as voluptuous or Rubenesque, it does cause a big problem. As the weight always seems to pile on in two places, my 'tits 'n ass' it plays havoc with my bras. As my tits vary from an ample 35C up to a very generous double handful of 36DD, I need two sets for when I am in my weight on and weight off periods. However, having been 'ample bosomed' since my twenties I get used to the stares, having to wear a sports bra and avoiding running anywhere! The legs, well certainly beneath the knees, are holding up well, although my thighs are a little chunky, but thankfully, not outlandishly so and they do not rub together. Although, probably on the young side for me, I still wear my hair long, down to my shoulders and I have persevered with both the colour, chestnut, and the style, unkempt and dragged through a hedge look. * This latest phase of my life began just over a year ago. With Sara at university and unlikely to return home to live permanently, I had decided to have some remodelling done in the duplex apartment near to Canary Wharf in London Docklands. This included knocking some walls down, building others, lots of electrical and plumbing work, decorating of course and the design and build of a complicated wooden room divider incorporating shelves, cupboards and a closet for coats. I had the plans drawn up by an architect and he obtained the necessary building permissions. The last builder I had used had been when Kevin and I had some extensive work done in the rambling pile in Chigwell. It had been at a difficult time for us as I had just found out for the second time for sure and about the fourth for likely that Kevin was 'playing away from home!' The first couple of times I had, after some blazing rows, forgiven him. The next time I was not so forgiving and applying the tortuous logic of a woman scorned I was unfaithful to him. It was a rather pathetic episode really and involved an old flame who had been sniffing around me at the tennis club. I think he was even more surprised than I was when I agreed to having a drink with him and we ended up at his grubby, flat having sex. It was sort of cathartic, although that was mixed with some guilt and a degree of revulsion, but that was more at the circumstances and the partner than at being unfaithful for the first time. I have heard it said that committing adultery is hardest the first time, after that it gets easier. It certainly did for me when I found out that Kevin had been shagging some young bimbo that worked for him I fucked the builder with little guilt or compunction. Peter was about fifteen years older than I was, probably in his mid-forties and owned the small company that was doing a lot of work in the house. A joiner by trade he was one of the brightest and most intelligent men I had ever met and I have always been a sucker for clever men. As the six-week project progressed, I had got to know him well and he taught me how to do both the Daily Telegraph and Guardian crosswords. That involved sitting side by side at the table as we had morning coffee and the sheer almost animal-like magnetism slowly got to me. It evidently got to Peter as well and several times our legs touched under the table or one of us would put their fingers on the other's wrist. There were those lingering glances and gaze holding moments that are the indications of the mutual attraction of a burgeoning relationship. However, neither of us was looking for an affair. Peter was happily married and Kevin and I had met him and his wife for drinks a couple of times. Additionally, Kevin and I had been getting on well and he seemed to be behaving himself. With my rather distorted logic I never even contemplated being unfaithful when he was a good boy, but when he was not then my 'red mists of jealously built up and I wanted my revenge. So nothing serious happened between Kevin and me until I found the damning evidence. He owned up, I kicked him out and a few days later when Peter's knee pressed against mine as we were sitting side by side on the sofa, not at the table, I did not move away. As both of us stared at the crossword that he was holding as we tried to solve seven down, I pressed back. He looked at me, down at our pressed together knees then back up and into my eyes. He smiled and said softly. "Are you sure Amanda?" "Yes, Peter, yes I am." That was fifteen years ago, but when I heard Peter's voice on the phone, it seemed just like yesterday. "Good morning, Kenwrights." "Hello Peter, it's Amanda Williams, well it is now, but you knew me as......" "I know who you are Amanda, and who you were," he said in his deep, velvet tone. "How are you, it has been a long time." It all came flooding back to me. I remembered his words as if he has said them just yesterday. "Yes Amanda, I do think it is time we went to bed" he had replied. I stood up with my blouse fully open and one breast pulled out of my bra. I put that away and said. "Come on then." I led him up the stairs very aware that my somewhat oversized bum was swaying just in front of his face. I probably emphasised the wiggle as I contemplated in a quite matter of fact way where I was going to commit adultery. Although the marital bed had some appeal, for I doubted it would be that again, I had slept in it a for few nights so I opted for the clean sheets of the guest bedroom. We stood beside the bed and kissed. He eased my blouse off and reaching round me, with our mouths clamped together, he adeptly unclipped my bra and between us, we removed it. I undid his dark blue, heavy cotton shirt and pulling it apart, I pressed my breasts against his nicely hairy chest. We kissed again; he was a good and patient kisser, much better than my previous lover and about as good as Kevin, who really is a great lover, just a lousy fucking husband. He eased me towards the bed until the back of my legs were pressed against it and then helped me lie on it. I shuffled my body further onto the bed and, after removing his shirt, he lay on top of me. We kissed a lot more and squirmed our bodies together, it was lovely! His erection was alternately pressed into the softness of my stomach, against my denim-covered pussy and rubbed up and down against my clit. "God I so want you" he grunted as his hand ran up and down my leg and again pressed against my pussy. "Yes, Peter" I groaned back as I felt his fingers struggling with my zip. "Here let me," I said sitting up. I undid the zip and pushed my jeans down. His eyes not leaving my body he did the same. "And these?" I asked slipping my fingers into my panties. "Yes" he said very thickly as he did the same to his rather old-fashioned Y fronts. Then we were both gloriously naked. I felt very nervous. I knew what I was doing and why I was doing it. I felt a little sorry for Peter for really I was using him; there was no real emotion in this other than lust and my distorted sense of revenge. I reconciled that, however, by assuming it was the same for him. He had a need for extra-marital sex and whatever the reason for that was; he was satisfying that urge just as I was mine. As it happens that first time was not that successful. I was far too tense and Peter was probably too eager. As I learned later, that was his first time at being unfaithful. It was over quite quickly leaving both of us sexually sated, but rather disappointed. It got better over the next three weeks or so whilst Kevin was persona non grata and we had some truly memorable fucks. When I let Kevin come home and told Peter we had to end it, we agreed that 'our fling' had been good for both of us. * On the phone those fifteen years later, Peter and I chatted and he asked about Kevin; he knew that we had divorced. He told me that he was semi-retired and that his son ran the business now. I asked if he would be interested in my work and he said that they would and that he and his son would pop in, have a look at the flat and the plans and then prepare a quote. I had to be in Germany when they visited the apartment, but was pleased to get a quotation a couple of days later. It seemed fine and we agreed a start date some three weeks later. When I met Peter the son, those fifteen years again just seemed to evaporate. He looked and sounded like his dad, had many of his gestures and mannerisms and the same sense of humour. He was quick witted like Peter senior and as he explained how they were going to go about the work, I could feel a similar level of mental horsepower. It sent a little shudder through me. Although I had the occasional sex with Kevin and now and then, I had a date that resulted in some, usually fairly unsuccessful, lovemaking, most of my sexual pleasure nowadays was self-administered. I had bought a few toys online and made good use of them as I sexually consoled myself either, in my bed or, a hotel room on my travels. A couple of weeks after the work started on the apartment Kevin came round to discuss Sara. We did this every six months or so or make sure that we were both fully involved in her development. I had been away some of the time so had not spent much time with Peter Junior up until the last couple of days. I had been working from home and he and I had meetings at the end of each day when we discussed progress, what was going to happen next and some revisions to the plans. Sitting next to him looking at drawings or across a table chatting and having a coffee I could not help thinking back to the few weeks when his dad and I had our passionate and thoroughly enjoyable affair. The likeness between the two Peters was remarkable Kevin and I had a light dinner and a few drinks and, as sometimes happened, he pulled me to him and kissed me. "We should do it more often Mands." "Do what?" "This" he said cupping my breast. Although he still excited me, the 'magic' had gone and there was no love left in me for him. However, there was still a lot of lust. I guess it was partly due to old times, partly that he is and always had been a good lover, but mostly because he was safe. I was not going to get emotionally involved or become dependent upon him, fuck him yes, but love him no. We didn't bother with going to the bedroom, but had sex there and then in the large kitchen diner. As we had kissed, he had rolled my cashmere sweater up and had pulled my tits out of my bra. I had unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped him and had eased his familiar, beautifully hard cock out of his trousers. "I am going to fuck you right here and now," he grunted pulling my skirt up and bunching it round my waist. I was not wearing tights or stockings. He grabbed and squeezed the cheeks of my bum pulling me even more firmly against him. "Promises, promises" I smiled rubbing his dick. "Turn round you horny, fucking bitch" he grunted falling into the dirty talk patter that we had enjoyed for so many years. "Not my bum Kevin." "I don't want that I want your big, wet, hot cunt that's what I am going to fuck. So wonderfully and excitingly sordidly, he didn't even bother taking my thong off. He bent me forward so I leaned against the table and merely pulling the slither of lace to one side he pushed his fat cock into my what I realised was a big, wet, hot cunt and fucked me wonderfully from behind. As my orgasm burst over me, I could hardly believe what was in my mind. It was not my ex-husband who was fucking me! At first it was my ex-lover Peter and then horrifyingly just as we both climaxed it was Peter junior's face that was in my mind. * I felt embarrassed the next few times I saw Peter. The recall of what was in my mind as Kevin had shagged me in the very room where I was chatting to the young man sent little shudders through me. Shudders of what, though, was the annoying question that plagued me as Peter carried on with his carpentry. I came home early, around four one afternoon. I had been away in Prague for a few days so I felt I had earned an early finish. There was only Peter in the apartment. The workmen started at eight and finished at four so we were alone. We chatted about how the job was going and he reported that it was on time and on budget. I asked about his dad and he said he suffered from a very bad back and nowadays concentrated on his fishing and bowls. He explained that he had been apprenticed in a large firm for three years and two to his dad before getting involved in running the business. He was now taking a degree on business studies with a view to taking it over completely when Peter senior retires when he is sixty. "He and mum are going to live in Italy, he loves it there," he told me. He explained that he had many plans for expanding the business so that it was, as he called it an integrated design and build operation. It all seemed very grand and the sheer enthusiasm with which he explained it was intriguing. Several times over the past week or so I had seen him staring at me. As with all full-breasted women, I was used to men ogling my boobs although they usually thought we did not notice. We did, though and I did with Peter as I felt his eyes on my chest. He watched me as I moved and seemed to go out of his way to make conversation. Alternatively, was I imagining it? Who could tell? At the same time, I looked forward to our meetings, to seeing him, talking to him and being with him. It was daft, it was crazy and it was unfathomable. Just as seeing his dad's and his face when I had made love to Kevin had been and just as imagining it was him screwing me was when I left him in the kitchen, went to my bedroom, locked the door and fucked myself imagining it was him. I was sure that there was an atmosphere developing between us. Whenever we were alone, and it seemed as if we were alone more and more often, I could feel it. I wondered if he could too, but how could I know for sure? 'Why did I want to know for sure' I asked myself receiving the dreaded answer that I expected, but hoped I would never hear. 'Because you fancy him, because you are intoxicated by him, because you want him and you want him to fuck you.' I fought it. I tried resisting it and denying the fact that was in my mind most of each and every day. I tried to stop thinking about him, thinking about being with him and thinking about holding him. I fought the evil spirits that were a little like the 'red mists' that had driven his father and me to bed, that were tempting me. They filled my mind with him naked, with me holding his cock and him sucking my breasts. Even in bed late at night when my hands travelled over my tits and body to arrive between my legs sometimes with a vibrator, I worked hard to imagine that it was Kevin whose head was between my thighs. That it was Kevin's cock I was stroking or licking and it was that which soared up inside me and fucked me. But I failed. Each time I could not do that and each time it was Peter who in mind was licking, sucking and fucking me. "Would you like a drink?" I asked him one evening. It was after seven and I had just got home from work. I had not had time to change so I was still wearing a blue business suit with a skirt and a white button up blouse. He was finishing up what he was doing. It seemed to me that recently he had been staying later. 'Was it to see me?' I asked myself feeling my pulses racing at the thought as at the same time I told myself not be so stupid. 'He's twenty four for fuck's sake' I told myself adding for good measure. 'Almost half your age.' A Father and Son Fuck Ch. 01 This argument had been raging inside me for over two weeks. All the signs that us woman learn to understand when a man fancies us were there. The lingering looks, the surreptitious glances at my breasts or legs, the standing a little closer and, even, the unconscious thrusting forward of his torso were there. The more individual ones, staying later, talking more, sitting closer to me and like his dad had done all those years ago, lightly touching me, my wrist, my arm and my shoulder were also there. Still, though I could not be sure that either, he really did want me or, that I would have the pluck to have him. Was it worth the possible rejection, the scorn if we had a fling and someone found out, the worry about Sara and all the social stigma? That sexually I wanted him there was no doubt. I unashamedly masturbated most evening visualising some form of sex between us. Imagining it and doing it, though, were two very, very different situations. I could also put myself in his shoes. I was a customer, I knew his parents. I was the older woman and surely would not be interested in a young guy like him. If he tried something and I was not interested what would happen? I knew that for both of us the current situation was a fucking mess and the potential for that becoming rapidly worse if one made a move and the other was not receptive to it was immense. He accepted a glass of wine. I poured it for him and led him into the kitchen diner, which was the only living room that was habitable. We sat down on chairs across the table from each other. He looked absolutely gorgeous as he sipped his wine and flicked the lock of hair that attractively flopped down over his forehead just as Hugh Grant's had in Four Weddings. He was wearing a tight, white tee shirt and jeans. We talked about the work he was doing for me. The conversation was rather stilted; it did not flow as it usually did. We moved on to his expansion plans. He was passionate about them and I enjoyed hearing them and seeing his face light up as he told me about his grand ideas. "That all sounds fantastic, Peter." "Well the plans are, it's bringing them to fruition that is the problem," he said sitting opposite me his elbows on the edge of the table his hands almost in the middle with one holding the stem of his almost empty glass. I picked up the bottle and poured him a generous measure. "Hey, not too much Amanda. Not trying to get me drunk are you?" That made my heart beat faster. "Now why would I do that?" I asked. He averted his gaze and looked embarrassed. "Sorry" he mumbled. "Just a joke." The atmosphere that over the past few weeks I had felt getting heavier almost overwhelmed me as we looked at each other not saying anything. I sat down and rested my elbows and hands on the table like his. Our fingers were just inches apart. It would have been so easy, but risky to have slid mine a little further to touch his. How I resisted I have no idea. "That's fine, don't be silly, no idea to apologise Peter." "Thanks" he replied. We chatted about nothing in particular until he said. "I had better go" as he stood up. "Girl friend to see?" "No," he smiled. "I don't have one," he told me as I too stood up. We walked towards the door. "So when do you think you will launch the new company?" I asked. "Well the launch will coincide with dad's retirement." "When's that?" "Next year" he said as we stood close together facing each other in the small hallway near the front door. I reached out for the handle on the front door realising too late that would open the suit jacket and stretch the blouse tightly across my boob, which would emphasise them. As his gaze was drawn to them, I almost smiled as 'like organ stops' came to mind when I saw his eyes. He went on. "But there are lots of hurdles to overcome before that." "Such as?" "Well mainly investment." "What you need more money?" "Yes who doesn't" he stammered as we stared at each other. "Look I had better go," he went on dropping his gaze. "What's the hurry?" "Nothing." "So why hurry?" I asked feeling a little more confident now that I was seeing some signs of his interest. "I don't know. Oh Mandy." "Why oh Mandy?" "I am making a fool of myself." "No you aren't Peter," I said almost in a whisper. "You sure." "Oh yes, I am very sure" I replied as he looked at me once more. Smiling I said. "Are you looking for a sleeping partner?" "Oh my god do you mean that?" "Yes, of course I do I wouldn't have asked otherwise?" When I had said about the sleeping partner, the double entendre had not hit me. It was only when Peter took a step forward and said softly. "What exactly do you mean by a sleeping partner" that it hit me that he had taken that to mean a partner to sleep with? I gulped. The moment I had fantasised about for ages was here. "You know," I mumbled as he put his hand on my upper arm. "What would Missus Williams say if I kissed her" was his surprising and amazing response. * My white blouse was undone nearly all the way down the front. One of my breasts had been eased out of its cup and my fiercely hardened nipple was being sucked. We were standing the kitchen diner, the only living room that was habitable. I was in his arms with our bodies crushed his gloriously hard erection pressing suggestively into stomach from my clit to my waist. His hand had rested tentatively and enquiringly on my bum a few moments ago. Seeing there was no resistance, he had rubbed and squeezed and had held the two cheeks to pull my body more firmly against his. Gaining more confidence his hand had reached down to nearly my knee at the back and had slid under the hem of my skirt. Then traveling upwards, it had brought the skirt with it until the expensive material was bunched round my hips and his hand caressed my bare bottom and stroked my thong. As his tongue explored the inside of my mouth, so his hand explored between my legs right against my panty covered pussy lips. "I think it might be time for us to go to bed don't you Peter?" I whispered looking into his eyes. To be continued very, very shortly. A Father and Son Fuck Ch. 02 I had fucked Peter some fifteen years ago and now I had just fucked his son, also named Peter. Both had been doing building work for me, the elder when I was married and the younger now I was divorced. The father and I had it when I was living in a large rambling house in Chigwell, just outside London in Essex. With the son it was at was at my duplex apartment in London Docklands. With Peter senior, it had been adultery for both of us, but with the son we were free spirits as I was now divorced and he was not attached. The dad had been in his fifties when we had made love; the son was in his early twenties. Both had been excellent fucks. * Peter and his team had been working in my apartment for several weeks. We chatted a lot, just as I had all those years ago with his father. They were very alike; Peter the son even did the The Times crossword just as the other Peter had, although the younger completed it on his Kindle. As we got to know each other better, I had felt the atmosphere developing and changing, becoming more intense and intimate, heavier and suggestive. After we had made love, we talked and admitted that we had fancied each other for some time, but had been scared to make an advance. There had been several near things and false starts as we 'duelled' with each other wondering, hoping and fantasising. The 'breakthrough' came about by accident. Peter senior was retiring and going to live in Italy. Peter junior was taking the business over and wanted to expand it. He needed capital. One evening after a couple of glasses of wine as he was leaving and we were standing facing each other by the door, I had completely innocently asked if he wanted a sleeping partner. Fortuitously he had taken it the wrong way or, maybe he had taken it the right way for he thought I was suggesting that I would be his partner to sleep with. Although I was not suggesting that with that phrase, I was craving to be that and quickly after saying that we were kissing. He took me in his arms crushed my body against his and shoved his tongue into my mouth; he seemed inexperienced, but I did not care. I was inflamed with desire for him, my body was tingling all over and my mind was alive to the fact that I was going to have sex with a guy young enough to be my son. He embraced and cuddled me with the vigour of a youth and the impatience of a man. However, that did not matter. The situation called for vigour and impatience. It was not the time where long, languid foreplay, slow undressing and subtle advances were required; they could come later. No, to get this done, demanded pace and action. Too much thinking and we could both 'come to our senses' and that was the last thing I wanted to happen. So as he squirmed his lips against mine I ground mine back and as his tongue probed at my mouth I opened it and welcomed his inside me, just as I knew I would welcome other parts of him inside my body very soon. I did nothing to deter his hand firstly rubbing my bum in my tight, blue, thin wool business skirt and then squeezing the cheeks and pulling me harder against his rock-hard erection that was pressed against me from my clit to my navel. I revelled in his enthusiasm and eagerness to get at me, to touch, rub and caress me and to see me. I welcomed his hand on my full breast inside the crisp white, button up the front blouse. I enjoyed him squeezing it, perhaps a little too hard and I pressed my sensitive orb back against his palm. I gasped with pleasure and a little pain when he pinched my nipple through the material and did nothing whatsoever to deter him when he fumbled the buttons undone. My heart pounded with anticipation and desire as he pulled my skirt up at the back and stroked, rubbed, caressed and pinched my slightly oversized, highly sensitive bum cheeks. I opened my legs encouragingly as his fingers probed between them searching and wonderfully finding the lips of my pussy covered by the lace of the pale grey, with pink trimmings thong. He rubbed me there and I grunted. "Ok Amanda?" He asked removing his lips from mine. "Oh yes Peter" I gasped back stroking the back of his head and neck and pushing my lower body even more firmly against his cock that I was now dying to feel, see and hold. We stood there kissing and kissing. He ruffled my shoulder-length, wavy, chestnut coloured hair that I paid fortune to get the 'just been dragged through a hedge backwards' look, or as my ex used to call it 'the just been fucked look' that is now so popular. He piled it on my head, caressed it, pulled it interestingly hard and then let it fall onto my shoulders. My blouse was now open all the way, my breasts had come out of the bra and my skirt was bunched around my waist. It was a gorgeously, wanton scene. It was then that I had said to him what I had said to his dad all those years ago. "I think it might be time for us to go to bed don't you Peter?" Although when working at home I often was in the nude or just in my underwear, it was an odd sensation walking through my apartment and up the open staircase with my blouse undone and my expensive skirt, worryingly crumpled round my waist. "Oh Mandy you are gorgeous" he sighed stroking my bum as we went across the landing leading to my bedroom. Once in there, we kissed again and he started to undress me, but I stopped him. "No undress yourself Peter," I whispered as I removed my blouse and carefully rolled the Donna Karen skirt down my legs, off my feet and folded it over the back of a chair. Staring at the other enjoying each new revelation his shirt was quickly on the floor and he was undoing his belt and zip. My bra was soon off and on the floor as he groaned his pleasure at seeing my somewhat pendulous 36 DD breasts as I wished I had continued the diet that gets them down to a more manageable 35D. I had been worrying about this moment since I had started fantasising about having sex with him a few weeks ago. I was sure that a gorgeous looking, young, available and very tasty guy like him would have his pick of young, stick insect-thin women. I worried that the voluptuousness of my breasts, the slight, yet obvious, post baby bulge of my tummy and the rotundness of my body might put him off, so his delight when he saw them relieved me. He was fiddling his jeans, which were round his ankles and his socks off so was standing there bent slightly forward in a pair of grey, CK modern Y fronts, unlike his father who wore old fashioned underpants. The bulge of his cock that the tight, material was restraining so that it pointed slightly sideways, well more at say, ten o'clock, looked lovely. He was clearly quite long and thick. We stood there just in our panties and stared at each other for a moment or two. "God I so want you Mandy," he whispered as both of us at the same time slid our hands into the waistbands. "And I you, Peter," I croaked back as we slid our underwear off. His erection sprung free into an upright position. That made me gulp and then sigh with desire; I could not remember wanting to hold a cock as much as I did his. "You are lovely Peter," I said as we held each other and gloried in the flesh on flesh feelings and the reaction to the curves and protuberances of the other's body. We lay on the bed, kissing and grinding our bodies together. His hands were all over me and mine after running down his broad, smooth back and over his pert bum had found, at last, what I had thought and had masturbated about so many times, his delicious, young, virile cock. As I lovingly, almost reverently stroked it so his mouth found my breasts. Holding one breast, he sucked my nipples as his other hand went between my legs and his fingers found my wetness. They slid inside me making me grunt with pleasure. "No Peter, not that." "What?" "I want this," I said squeezing his prick. "Sorry," he said removing his fingers leaving a void in the sensations I was receiving from him. "Fuck my condoms are in my car." "Don't worry," I said leaning across the bed and fumbling in the bedside table drawer. I gave him a packet. "Thanks," he smiled ripping the paper open, pulling out the johnny and slipping it on his awesomely swollen cock. I rolled onto my back and he climbed on. We kissed and he squeezed my breast as he slithered down a little so that his cock was between my thighs that I opened a little. The end of it was nuzzled against the lips of my pussy. "Ready," he whispered. "Oh yes, very ready," I groaned, closing my eyes and kissing him as I received the fantastic sensations of his cock sliding up my wet and welcoming cunt. It was a quick fuck. Perhaps no more than a couple of minutes, a dozen or so thrusts and then he was holding himself rigid as far up me as he could get it. "Fuck it sorry, I'm cumming Mandy." "Yes Peter cum for me. I am too," I groaned back as I felt his cock exploding into the rubber and my orgasm crashing over me. I lay in his arms as the lovely traumas of my orgasm subsided. Like many men, he had slid out of me pretty quickly after cumming, but unlike some, he did not seem to want to get away from me. We cuddled and I squirmed up against him. "Oh Mandy that was amazing, you're amazing" he whispered. Looking up at him, my breasts squashed against his chest I smiled and said. "You're pretty amazing yourself you know." "Was it ok?" I ran my hand up his nicely, hairy chest, kissed him softly on the lips and said. "It was a lot, lot better than ok Peter, it was great." We lay there telling each other how wonderful we were until he said. "I have been thinking about this for so long." We then went on to tell each other how we had slowly become more and more attracted to each other and how we had been scared to make a move. Laughing I said. "I had no idea you would fancy a mother figure like me Peter." Cupping my breast, he replied. "These are far from mother figure attributes and my mother doesn't do this to me," he smiled pushing his lower body against me. "Fuck he's hard again," I said to myself loving the idea. We had sex again this time lying on our sides and later, after I had ordered and had delivered a Chinese meal, with me on top. Ah the wonder of young men was coming true, I smile. * I did not see Peter for a few of days as I had to go to Madrid the day after that first sex, but I missed him. I could not believe it at first. It was not just the sex I was missing, but being with him, seeing his smile and hearing him talk. The day after I returned from Madrid I did not leave at my usual seven fifteen to get to work. I waited until he and his workmen arrived. I felt nervous and was worried that now he had screwed me that he might not want me anymore. It was a relief, therefore, that when he arrived he beamed me a big smile and told me how pleased he was to see me. As the men started work, he pulled me into what would soon be my study. We kissed. "Not working today Mandy?" "Yes I shall be off soon." "What time will you be home?" "Not early I am afraid I have a client meeting at four." "Shame" he said meaningfully looking into my eyes as I mentally undressed him. "You could do some overtime and stay for dinner." "Thank you I would like that." "I'll call you on your mobile when I am near." "Fantastic." He was lying on his back. We were both naked and he had fucked me twice within an hour. I wanted more. I slid my hand down and found his flaccid cock. "I want this," I whispered into his ear. "Soon Mandy, give me half hour or so. "No I want it now," I growled pretending to be angry as I slithered down his body my long hair tumbling onto his chest and then his stomach. I kissed and licked my way from his face to his waist. I licked his stomach and then lifted his cock that certainly had some life in it. I kissed feeling his hands ruffling my hair. I licked its length a couple of times and was pleased and relieved to feel it stirring. I scratched his balls with my fingernails, cupped them in my hand and then sucked one, then the other and then both into my mouth. At the same time, I stroked that little patch between them and his anus. He was suitably moaning, groaning, and writhing his hips a little. "Oh yes Mandy that is fantastic" he said as he cock started to grow. "Kneel for me," I said positioning myself in front of him. I took it in my mouth and sucked it until it reached its majestic fullness. "Ok you can have it now," he said pulling on my shoulder. I resisted and carried on licking and sucking him. He did not object. Holding the base of his thick cock in my hand I slowly masturbated him as I slid my mouth up and down his gorgeous length. With my other hand, I caressed, stroked and rubbed his balls and thighs even edging my finger slightly inside the crease of his bum. "Mandy I won't last that long," he groaned pulling and stroking my hair. "Good," I managed to mutter between sucks of his delicious prick. "What do you mean?" "Guess" I muttered renewing my sucking efforts. I could feel it hardening and him straining. I knew he was near and I was tempted to let him cum in my mouth, but as much as I liked him, I thought that I did not know him well enough for that. I slithered slightly under him so that I could still suck and rub him, but could look up at him. My bare tits were under his cock and my face, obviously, was level with it. "Do you want to cum on me?" I asked him. "Yes on your tits." With just a tad more sucking and a few pumps of my hand, he was cumming. As it happened, he did not just cum on my tits, but splattered his sperm all over my face as well. * We had several more afternoon and evening sessions and even an overnight; it was wonderful dozing off in his arms only to woken by a hard, enquiring cock probing at me. God knows how many times we had sex or how many orgasms he gave me that night; I did not even try to count them. I then had to go to the States for a series of budget meetings in New York and the annual management convention in Boca Rotan. I was away for two weeks and it was hell. I missed him every moment of those two weeks. I phoned him far more often than I should, but I just could not help myself. I even contemplated arranging for him to fly out, but even with the liberal management of the ad agency that would be pushing a little far. I knew that I was in danger of making a fool of myself, if I wasn't already, but Peter did not seem to mind and certainly did not object. As well as phone calls, we started emailing. They went deeper, became more intimate and I suppose, not to put too fine a point on it, dirty. They also became more frank and open. We started expressing our feelings until the day before I was due to return a phrase in a mail from him made me feel as if my heart would explode. 'Please do not be mad at me Mands and I will understand if you think I am being stupid, but I think I am falling in love with you. Also forgive me for not telling you this face to face, but I simply am not brave enough. I will understand if you ignore this or want to finish with me.' I mailed back. 'Of course I am not mad at you nor do I wish to ignore it and most importantly I do NOT want to finish it. We do, though need to talk face to face and urgently.' Coming through the customs into terminal five at Heathrow, the first thing I saw was Peter. He was holding a bouquet of flowers. I dropped my carry-on luggage and forgetting the crowds of people around us I fell into his arms and we were kissing. We had done nothing like this in public before, in fact we had not been together in public. "I have missed you so much Mandy," he said between deep, passionate kisses. The tears started rolling down my cheeks. "And I have you too, Peter, so very, very much" I replied when I could get his tongue out of my mouth. I felt his erection pressing against me. "Sorry Mands, but I want you so much." "Are the men working in the flat?" "Yes, I am afraid they are." I got my mobile and called the Sheraton. "What are you doing?" He asked. I moved closer and whispered. "Getting a place for us to fuck. As I knew cabbies at Heathrow, hated short trips, I asked the Sheraton to send a car to collect us. We wandered through the terminal arm in arm with me being thankful that, inevitably, or I hoped, they were strangers all round us. Although I had been able to resist kissing and holding my young lover after I came through customs, I did not feel comfortable with such actions of affection in public with a guy young enough to be my son. We nattered away as we waited for the car that took no longer than fifteen minutes. Within another fifteen or so, we were in the lobby of the hotel and I was registering. I was acutely aware of the stares and glances we got from mainly other guests, but also from some of the staff although I imagined they would be used to such pairings, but then maybe not. It was hardly another fifteen minutes before we were in our sixth floor room, naked, with Peter on top of me, between my widely spread, legs wrapped round his back having fervid, energetic and making up for lost time, sex. This time, though, I recognised it was more than sex; we were making love and that recognition shook me. It shook me most when I thought that he is hardly any older than my daughter! * "I've never really done it," he said rather bashfully adding. "Sorry Mandy." "Don't be silly" I said sitting up so that my tits sagged a bit, something I was now not so worried about, particularly as he then cupped one and lifted it to his mouth. "Would you like to?" "Of course, every man would." "No they don't love," I said cradling his beautiful face to my breast, just as I had my daughter Sara's all those years ago. "What do you mean how could any man not want to?" "Some think it's not right and dirty." "What pricks." We laughed. "So you would like to would you Peter?" "Yes of course, may I?" Smiling I said. "I thought you would never ask, be my guest." "I'm not sure what to do," he said, slithering downward so his face rested on my bare tummy just inches from my dark, pubic hairs. "Then I and nature will teach you," I said opening my legs and raising my knees. I gently held his head and persuaded it down a little further so it was between my thighs, his mouth pointing at my pussy. "Do you what you think is natural Peter," I whispered, my entire being tingling with anticipation. His tongue ran softly along my lips that were nicely lubricated. He got the pressure just about right, but could have slid his tongue inside a little more. "Mmmmm that's lovely, keep doing that" I groaned still holding his head and running my fingers through his hair. He slid his tongue along that sensitive passageway a few more times doing it slowly and purposefully and, as it happens, just right. "Push it in a little," I suggested. He got that spot on too, his male nature took over, and he started to fuck me with his tongue. "Use your fingers as well darling," I groaned feeling those lovely oral induced sensations welling up in my stomach and breasts. He stroked my thighs, edged his fingers between my legs and then rubbed my stomach. I was starting to cum. "Hey slow down a bit, you'll put me over the top," I smiled urging his face away from me for a moment or two. "Let me rest a bit "I am getting on and can't take the pace," I smiled reaching out for him and pulling his leg. "Turn a bit so I can get to you." "What do you want to get to?" "What do you think" I smiled grabbing his rock hard cock that had cum less than half hour ago. I rubbed him adding with a lilt in my voice. "Do me a favour Peter?" "Whatever your heart requires." "It's not what my heart requires, it's something else." A Father and Son Fuck Ch. 02 "So what do you want me to do Mandy?" "Lick and suck my clit for me as at the same time you finger fuck me." * As he had been at making straightforward love, Peter was a quick learner at oral love. Unlike some men he made love to my pussy, he adored it, he revelled in it and he loved it almost as a person in its own right. Like all the great oral artists, he did not look on it as a part of a woman, like her tits for instance, but as a completely separate entity; one that needs special treatment and its own type of satisfaction. He treated every part of my body down there with his special attention and he used all of his available features, tongue, lips, teeth and fingers. He licked and kissed, sucked and nibbled, rubbed and probed and pushed and penetrated me with his tongue and fingers. He satisfied the demands of my lips, inside my pussy and of course, most wonderfully my clit. I just could not get enough of his attention to me down there. A few days after The Sheraton, we were at his flat. He had a small place in Crouch Hill and area of London that was becoming trendy and popular. I met him there at a lunchtime when I popped out from Covent Garden by cab; my place was unavailable due to his men being there and he had been asking me to visit his home. It was neat and tidy and I liked it, but I was not there to assess the quality of his home. "Just lie there darling" I murmured an hour or so after we had both cum hard and then had dozed off. "What you going to do?" "You'll see," I told him kneeling beside him clad in just the lacy top holdups I had worn specially for him; he loved them. "It's your next lesson" I went on smiling, but deeper down feeling very serious. I was finding a quite different and additional attraction to the 'having a 'young buck' to the getting fucked quick and often syndrome.' That was teaching him. It was a massive kick to be helping a young man develop sexually and such a turn on to have him express his gratitude. I knelt across his face. "Oh my god Mands" he groaned clearly staring at my most private places that themselves were clearly looking him right in the eye. "I'm not hard yet" he went on as I leaned forward and took hold of his semi-erect dick. "Don't worry baby," I whispered licking it and lowering myself slowly so that he could reach my pussy with his mouth. He gripped my hips as I sucked his growing dick into my mouth. Neither of us lasted very long. I was quite quickly squirming my cunt against his mouth and he was almost as quickly straining his cock in my mouth. So far, he had not cum in my mouth and I did not think this was the right time as I felt he should be looking at me as he completely fucked my mouth. I had made the decision that I would let him cum in there and that I would swallow it, although I am not that keen on either, but after all he was my sexual protégé. It was about this time we started to date. I had not for one moment, either before we had got it on or, after we had started our fling imagined we would 'go out' together. I think it was the afternoon in his flat that started it. After I had initiated Peter into the pleasures and sometime sexual gymnastics of 'sixty nineing', he had said he would run me home. I had argued saying I would get a cab. After a brief verbal jousting he had agreed, but had insisted on walking me to the cab rank just a hundred yards or so down the main road. "Let's have a drink" I guess had started it. We sat in the busy pub and drank a couple of Guinesses. A few days later he rang and suggested dinner. I hesitated. I know that in many ways it was wrong, but I felt embarrassed at the idea of being seen with him. I hated the thought of what others would be imagining; cradle snatcher, old girl with her toy boy, must be gagging for it, how hard up must she be and simply disgusting. But I eventually agreed. I made sure that we avoided Docklands as I knew a lot of people who ate out there so the first time we went to a restaurant near his home. Subsequent 'dates' took us up the West End, into Knightsbridge, Shoreditch and other equally neutral places. "Let's go clubbing," he suggested one evening, as I lay naked in his arms on my living room floor. "Don't be daft." "Why not?" "It will look silly at my age." "No it won't" he replied laughing and adding. "There's often old birds there." "Now, now, that's just on grab a granny nights." Despite my reservations, we went to a couple of clubs and although I was not totally comfortable it could have been worse. There were quite a few older people there, more men I have to admit than women. * It was not all sunshine though. Obviously, the sex was the main attraction. Well it had been when we had started a couple of months ago, but the relationship between us had changed. When we started, Peter had a girl-friend. He had finished that. Although over the past couple of years I now and then slept with Richard, my ex; I had not let him touch me in the past six weeks or so. Also, I had not seen my 'fuckbuddy' or had any inclination to take up the offers of 'dinner' with the guys from the agencies and clients I visited in Europe and the States. It struck me after those two months when we had started as it were, dating, that we were both being faithful to each other. Was there a message or a meaning there, I asked myself quite often? Deep down I began to realise that there probably was, but I could not admit it to myself and certainly, I would not discuss it with Peter. There were awkward moments though and these were summed up by such phrases as: "I was only four when that was on tele." "I wasn't born when that film came out." "Yes I used to watch that with mum and dad." "I don't really remember the Beatles, John Lennon was shot before I was born." I took him on trips with me to Paris, Amsterdam and Rome when I knew I would not have dinner or evening engagements. We were then able to have our dates with no chance of being caught. I felt more relaxed then and in any case a woman with a guy young enough to be her son seemed to be much more acceptable in such places. We stayed at the George Cinq in Paris and wandered hand in hand down the Champs Elysee. "Where do you want to cum?" I asked him as I knelt in the middle of the huge bed later that evening. "In your mouth, Mandy please let me." Smiling I said. "Oh very French, how appropriate." Taking his outrageously hard cock back into my mouth, I stroked and gently squeezed his balls. I looked up at him as if to say 'go on then.' It had been such a long time since the last person to do that, Kevin, had cum in my mouth. It was nowhere near as uncomfortable as I remembered it, although the amount that Peter shot into my mouth did make me feel as if I would gag. His words, though, more than made up for that. "Oh Mands, yes, that is amazing, yes, yes yes," he grunted fucking my mouth and filling it with his cum. Holding it in the back of my mouth, I sat up and looked at him. His eyes were on me as with an exaggerate gulp I swallowed most of it. Then, leaning forward I kissed him so that some of his cum oozed into his mouth. He was certainly learning all the tricks for he returned the favour by taking his fingers from my pussy, covered in my cum juice and offering them to me to suck and lick. Onto Rome where arms round each other, we walked down the Via Veneto and stayed at the Ritz. Thank god for such a ludicrously generous expense account. Several times, we had indulged in some anal play. Nothing that extreme yet, just caresses on the cheek, fingers run through the crease and pressure, but no entry into the anus itself. I am not a great lover of anal penetration so, when he returned the pressure on my hole my response was not as enthusiastic as his, which had been him squirming against my finger and a muffled, due to his face being between my breasts. "Oh fucking hell." It was around four in the afternoon. We had eaten lunch in a courtyard of a restaurant just a few hundred metres from the Ritz. We accompanied the delicious ravioli with a bottle of Frascati as we played footsie under the table and he looked down my front enjoying the fact that I had not bothered with underwear. Arms round each other's waist, with his hand confirming my lack of panties in the tight, silky skirt we ambled to the hotel. I felt relaxed, comfortable, and mellow from the wine. I also felt very horny indeed and the spectre of afternoon sex in a hotel simply added to that. As we walked through the lobby I saw the usual stares that an older woman with a younger guy always attracts, but that did not bother me; all I knew was that I wanted to be with Peter and that very soon I was going to have sex with him so 'fuck you' I thought. "Kneel on the bed," I told him after we had undressed, kissed and caressed and stroked each other, in my case almost to a climax. "No not like that" I went on as he clambered onto it. "Just put your arms on the bed, your knees on the edge, and then lean forward so you rest your face on your hands." He did as I instructed muttering. "Yes teacher" which was in response to a couple of conversations where we had discussed the attraction of older women to some younger guys. Smiling I said. "That's perfect for this looks gorgeous" as I stroked his pert, firm bum. I knelt on the floor and eased his legs open a little more. I shuffled between them so that my face was close to him. I kissed one of his cheeks, ran my hand up his thigh, and cupped his balls that were dangling so invitingly just in front of my eyes. "Oh Mandy," he groaned. "That's fantastic." "Hang on babe, you 'aint seen nothing yet" I said I with a poor American accent as I ran my finer down his anal crease and across his hole. I paused and pressed him there. "Fucking hell, what are you doing?" He groaned. "This" I said as my tongue followed the route that my finger had just taken and stopping where that had. This time I pressed and let some saliva escape from my mouth. The tip slid in a little way. "Nice?" "Oh my god yes, it's fucking awesome, I think I'll become a gay" he was saying as I reached round him and gripped his cock in both my hands. His male, gay or otherwise who cares, instincts immediately took over and he started to fuck the surrogate cunt, or arse, that my hands were providing for him. It did not take long and with my tongue probing as far up his bum as I could get it and him vigorously fucking my hand, he shot an enormous amount of cum all over the silk sheet of the Ritz's large bed. * We had been 'seeing each other' for six months now. I had met a couple of his close friends who knew about 'us' and I had introduced him to my best and closest friend. We 'dated' more frequently now as I had got over, to some extent, my embarrassment at being seen with a guy young enough to be my son, which incidentally he was mistaken for a couple of times. The work on my home had finished so we had less easy opportunities to be alone. Thus, we would sneak into my place hoping we meet no neighbours, but more often go to Crouch End. I was as crazy about him as he professed to be about me. I missed him when we were apart yearned for him the nights we did not have sex or sleep together and masturbated about him when we did not see each other. We had phone sex and when I was abroad, we cammed together jacking off so the other could see. I knew that I was being silly, but I could not help it and often the saying 'no fool like and old fool' was in my head. To an extent, I abused my position at work by having him accompany on trips around the UK and abroad including a week in New York. I was also cutting it fine with the job. I started leaving the agency earlier than usual, going in later and taking longer lunch breaks when I would see him. I was aware that it was wrong, but I could not help myself, I was totally besotted by him. In addition, it was not just the fantastic sex, as amazing as that was. It was that, of course, but it was also the teaching, the initiating him into 'grown up' sophisticated sex and combining that with his awesome stamina and recovery powers. "No Kevin, stop" I said as my ex took me in his arms and went to kiss me as his hand cupped and squeezed my breast. "What's the matter?" "I can't." "What do you mean can't, or do you mean won't?" "Both." "What you talking about Mands?" He asked slipping his hand inside my sweater and right onto my left boob. It did feel good, but it also felt wrong. "I do not want to do this in anymore." "Do what?" "Have sex with you?" "Why not?" He asked persisting with trying to kiss me and grope my breasts. "Because Kevin I am in love." Smiling and pulling away a little he said. "And I guess you do not mean with me." That made me smile. I pulled my sweater down and moved away. "No Kevin it does not." "What does it mean then?" "It means" I started and then took a deep breath before adding. "I am getting married."