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Fleeting Glimpses

By: laplappapillon



I have had the good fortune in life to have shared my penchants with likeminded women, in the ebb and flow, they have accommodated me to a great extent by acquiescence or persuasion.

However, nothing quite compares to the spontaneous, unexpected or clandestine flashes of a girl's ( or woman's) knickers.

Knickers in Britain, panties to the rest of the planet - it all comes down to the same thing.

When I was a young lad, I worked in a supermarket in a Scottish city...I would have been 16 or so.I had signed up for an army apprenticeship and had several weeks to kill before my formal enrolment. I took this humble job, secure in the knowledge that I would have a plethora of slim and pretty girls to banter with as we stacked the shelves, served across the deli counter or manned the checkout tills.

One girl in particular caught my eye - to be honest, I can barely recall her name, but memory has it as Morag. She wore spectacles, had long gingery-blonde hair and was impossibly pretty. She also had a boyfriend who worked in the Butchery department - he was a likeable enough character, although he never seemed to acknowledge the little jewel he had in his grasp.

To my naive little mind he seemed to be too casual with her, slapping her back and pushing her around as if she were a pal. It may well have been her comfort zone, who knows, I do remember thinking that if she was my girlfriend, I would romance and enchant her to distraction - I felt that I had the language to do this, although I never really found the courage to try too hard.

She did seem to like me, however, singing along with me to the endless loop of pop music on the primitive PA system, smiling and joking and generally being splendid company. I took the chance to be with her whenever possible, just to see her delightful face, smell her flowery girl's perfume and watch her pert little bottom clad in the Store's nylon livery as we happily stacked tins of spaghetti.

In those days, girls generally wore quite proper underwear in everyday use....I know because I had seen my sisters' on occasion in careless moments and I knew her to be a girl of the world, however, it never even crossed my mind that one day I may see Morags'.......

One part of our duties was to take delivery of goods in the loading bay within the bowels of the shop. The cardboard boxes full of produce would be put on a conveyor from the trucks, stacked loosely, then formally stockpiled in the warehouse. This was a sort of Monday morning job, vaguely tedious, tiring and uneventful, but if I had my little darling alongside, the time would become irrelevent and I would quietly revel in her presence.

I suppose the singular and entire erotic episode lasted less than half a minute, but it is indelibly engraved in my memory and has fed my gentle fantasies for all my adult life.

The conveyor belt broke down one cold morning.... which was not uncommon and for whatever reason, Morag elected to climb onto the belt with another girl and complete the unloading by hand. This was very pleasant in itself, because the girls were bending, stooping, twisting and turning a good yard above my eye level...almost like a catwalk and although I never had much more than a glimpse of a nylon stocking band, I can comfortably confirm that I had an erection to rival a donkey having a party in my britches.

Eventually the task was completed and the girls had to climb down....ignoring the steps at the far end, Morag approached me with her arms held forward to assist her. As she squatted down in front of me, I became transfixed, as in slow motion, her pretty, slim legs spread a foot apart, exposing her tan stockinged thighs and pure white nylon knickers.

This in itself was jaw-dropping, I could only stare hypnotically at the plump, slightly moist folds of material inches from my slavering mouth. What was remarkable about this revelation aside from the erotic and reckless exposure, was the accompaniment of possibly the hairiest upper thighs I have ever witnessed.

Morag was just a young lass, but she was blessed (or cursed ) with a sheen of silky blonde hair cascading from her undies like a waterfall - I have never seen anything quite like it and probably never will again. 

I remember her looking steadily at me as I helped her dismount the conveyor . feeling her little hands in mine, watching her pert, blossoming breasts and holding her tiny waist as she bounced down to the ground. 

I have had many similar opportunist encounters in my life, mostly inadvertent, yet richly rewarding 

nonetheless and I am happy to recount them here if anyone cares to respond, but none of them can hold a candle to those brief moments (pardon the pun) glancing up Morag's skirt at her silky mound 

and gorgeous little furry mane.

Laplappapillon

Fleeting Glimpses Ch. 02



A more recent erotic episode took me equally by surprise. I had been having some raunchy dialogue online a few years ago with an American friend on ICQ (which was flavour of the month at the time). She was about 40, had been happily divorced for years, plump and wholesome with a robust and cheeky sense of humour; I was really quite fond of her. I shall call her Marilyn for the purpose of the story, as her name is quite recognizable.

When she told me one summer that she was visiting the UK in late autumn to look up her ancestors on the south coast, I was delighted. Apart from anything else, we had become good friends and confidantes and I looked forward to meeting her. Although, I did think that she would temper her familiar ardour as she would be staying at home with my missus and I for a few days. How I wangled myself into that scenario beggars description, it actually was too good to be true. 

I had inveigled my other half into sharing telephone conversations with Marilyn, writing Birthday and Christmas cards, etc. in an effort to allay any suspicions she may have. Frankly she thought it amusing that I had struck up such a friendship; this woman really wasn't my "type" and coupled with her plumpness; well off the radar.

Anyway, the great day arrived and Marilyn called from Heathrow to announce her arrival. I had instructed her to catch the airport bus to bring her within a few miles of our home, where I would collect her, anyone who has ever visited Heathrow will understand why.

The missus had gone evening shopping anyway, so I had plenty of time to kill and drove off to collect Marilyn in a nearby town. I found her at the bus station by the river looking a little bemused, she hadn't understand a word anyone had said to her since she climbed down the gangplank from the aircraft and the local patois where I live is indecipherable to anyone from the next county, never mind an American, so she was greatly relieved when I appeared. I hugged her and kissed her neck and face with genuine delight. She was wearing a knee-length, fully buttoned summer dress in a pale blue colour, with red trim and a little red belt. 

"Let's get out of here, honey," she said, with a husky drawl which impressed me enormously.

She had always sounded rather sexy and vaguely like Lauren Bacall. I took charge of her luggage trolley and steered her through the leaf-strewn country bus terminal towards the car. She hung closely on my arm, smiling and nodding at everyone like some terrified tourist. As we crossed to the car, she pulled me closer and whispered in my ear. 

"I want to sit in the back of the car, if that's ok with you, honey?" 

I never gave it a second thought and replied "You can sit anywhere you like, so long as it isn't on my lap, lass. I might get arrested!" 

A feeble quip, perhaps, but she giggled like a schoolgirl and hugged my arm a little tighter.

I pressed the immobiliser and in the gathering gloom, opened the door and stood aside to let her seat herself, before turning to load her luggage into the boot. 

She strangely, didn't let go of my hand, almost forcing me to pay attention as she sat herself down. Very deliberately, she lifted her left leg into place, slowly spreading her legs apart prior to settling into position. I was slightly shocked as I watched her stocking limbed thighs pause for a moment, exposing a glorious expanse of milky white flesh. Like a gentleman and an idiot, I looked into her caramel eyes and watched her lips open to mouth the words: 

"Nice, honey?"

With hindsight I should have dwelt in the moment -looking up women's dresses is my fetish after all. Instead I tripped and stumbled my way to the back of the car and loaded her suitcase. Finally I started the engine, switched on the lights and pulled away to pick up the main road out of town.

Marilyn was now sitting demurely, buckling her seat belt, smoothing her clothes and chattering like a bird. I drove slowly and sedately, politely returning her conversation, catching her eye in the rear-view mirror. She moved closer towards me, her hand stroking my arm and asked how far it was to the house. I told her it was maybe 15 miles; her reply hastened my heart-rate by several notches. 

"Is there anywhere quiet en-route where we might stop for a while?"

I began to think at the speed of light. I did know a spot, on the woodland trail a mile or so off the main road, a sort of summer picnic spot with a reasonable track which meandered through the trees, so I relayed this to her and settled into the journey. Eventually, we approached the spot, which was thankfully deserted and I switched off the headlights to cruise into the parking bay amongst the birch trees and rhododendron bushes. That husky voice of hers broke the sudden silence. 

"I have a little gift for you, honey, why don't you come round here and I will show you?" 

I am certain that my gulp was audible for several miles as I made my way. The interior light was the only thing breaking the pitch blackness and I suddenly felt slightly exposed as I opened the rear door.

Marilyn began to lie back on the seat, stretching herself like a cat, smiling at me in open invitation. I felt the blood rush to my loins as she once again slowly and steadily spread her legs apart, exposing her nylon clad thighs, inch by inch until I could see the creamy triangle of her knickers.

The interior light clicked out as I shut the door and she reached forward, pulling me towards her and literally stuffing her plump, warm tongue deep into my mouth. 

"Open the door again, honey," she whispered, "I will let you see your present again." 

I reached behind me to push the door ajar and she moved slightly backwards to comfortably spread herself out. Even as she spoke, she was spreading her legs even wider, displaying the softest, sexiest, creamiest pair of satin knickers in the known universe. She couldn't have parted her legs further if she tried and my swollen cock must have looked faintly ridiculous bulging in my jeans as I gazed in awe at this erotic confection unfolding before me.

I knelt before her, my foot holding the door (and light) in place, completely unprepared for the torrent of erotic filth which began to issue from her cerise lipstick mouth. I am no prude, far from it, but I don't normally swear in conversation unless I am providing emphasis to make a point or to add weight to some pithy comment, so I may even have blushed as she spoke.

"Feast your eyes my dear, if this doesn't stiffen your cock, nothing ever will. Look how smooth and soft these pretty knickers are, bought especially to treat your eyes tonight. If you touch them, you will see them slowly moisten as my pussy juices ooze onto your fingers."

"My God, Marilyn! This is delicious, I don't know where to start." 

"Press and fondle them, honey, stroke them. Slide your fingers along the hem and just watch how sticky they become. I want to feel your mouth pressed into them! Pull them away from my smooth and oily slit and lap me like a kitten!"

I sank my face into her mound and lost myself in an orgy of musk; her smooth, hairless, perfumed quim twitched with each and every slick lap of my tongue as I slid it up and down the crease. I used every trick I knew to pleasure her, reaching up to gently squeeze her ample breasts as I wallowed around in her warm, wet pussy. Her knickers were rapidly becoming soaked with her sticky juices and her breathing became faster and more urgent with every passing moment. 

"Oh honey! I am so fucking aroused!" she gasped. 

"I want to fill my mouth with your cock."

She pushed me back onto the seat, the door clicked shut, the lights went out and suddenly her warm, wet mouth was nuzzling the front of my jeans. She slowly unzipped me and took out a fairly scary erection from within, then without hesitation plunged it into her mouth, moaning and purring her arousal. I became aware that she had also spread her thighs apart and was gently wanking herself through her knickers.

I was in heaven and so was she, so I simply laid back and basked in the moment. Every now and then she would come up for air and suck my mouth with her soaking lips and tongue, mouthing obscenities through the mire of goo, supplemented by cum-soaked fingers from her quim which she thrust between our lips in a frenzy of lust. 

"Did you like my little display, honey?" she cooed, "It made your cock so lovely and stiff and hard for me. I am so desperate to cum!" 

"Marilyn, I want to cum all over your thighs and your satin pussy, lie back again, this is all too sexy for words."

"Oh honey, I want you to wank over me and splash your warm sticky spunk all over my knickers as I finger myself. I want to feel your spunk trickling over my fingers!"

I needed no further encouragement and gently pushed her backwards. She settled herself into position and went through her beautiful routine once again for me, parting her thighs then slowly and very erotically masturbating herself over the satin mound as I stroked my throbbing cock in front of her. Very quickly I reached the point of no return and with a gasp of pleasure I shot a jet of warm spunk all over the soaking cream satin. She almost screamed with delight and grabbed at my spurting cock to catch the second jet, dousing her pussy lips with the oily goo. 

"Mmmmmm. Oh God, I'm cumming!!" she squealed. 

Her entire lower body began to buck and shake as she climaxed; head rolling, mouth uttering unrepeatable filth in her abandon. She pulled me towards her and whispered in my ear: 

"Slide a finger or two inside my hole, honey and I will cum again." 

Being a gentleman, I did as she asked and felt her pucker as I gently probed the opening. True to her word, she quickly began to gasp and buck again; to add to her pleasure, I leant down and began to suckle her plump, tumescent clitoris, causing her to screech and tremble in a sort of aftershock until she finally pushed me from her, over sensitized and spent.

We eventually sat together in the front of the car, smoking a cigarette in the darkness. Marilyn calmly announced that she wanted to treat me again before she left for the coast. We would pick our moment, she said, when she would like to sit on top of me, draping her breasts over my mouth as I fucked her. I was still slightly speechless and murmured my agreement as we straightened ourselves for the rest of the journey. 

I bought a fish and chips supper on the way home to mask the unmistakeable odour of sex exuding from our pores, it seemed to work and we were sitting munching our way through them with a mug of hot tea when the missus eventually arrived home. The promised second encounter happened a few days later, but that's another story.

Laplappapillon 



Fleeting Glimpses Ch. 03



The penultimate fling

As luck would have it, I managed to wangle a half day to myself before Marilyn was due to set off on her mission to trace her ancestors in Brighton. She was happy enough to spend time with us at home in the evening, sharing meals and watching television, bucolic walks along the riverbank and mini trips to the local villages. But further to our exotic episode in the picnic spot, she was hungry for more and understandably, so was I.

I was surveying and photographing an old manor house nearby and spent a fair bit of time ducking in and out of the office, so a couple of hours here and there would not be noticed by anyone. 

Marilyn had driven me to distraction for a couple of days, flirting and teasing at every opportunity. If I was preparing a meal or pottering around the kitchen, she would sidle up behind me and press her hips against my bum (she loved my bum and said it was my best feature) if it was a compliment it didn't do my poor face any justice....She would slowly grind herself against me, she absolutely loved this position...and whisper in my ear.

"Mmm honey, I am wearing some very pretty pink knickers and they are so-ooooo damp with lust."

I can't begin to describe the arousal this induced, my caution was hovering in code red, so I would only respond if I knew the missus was well out of earshot or, indeed, out in the garden. If the coast was clear, however, I would press back against her with my buttocks and join her little dance. Swaying together we would build up the passion and invariably her surprisingly tiny hands would snake around to begin fondling my ripe and swollen muscle. She would unzip my fly and slide a hand inside, caressing the shaft and cupping my balls so gently, all the while cooing an essay of erotic filth in my ears.

"I want you to finger me, honey. Slip a finger or two inside my knickers and feel just how sticky and wet I am."

"Marilyn, you are going to give me a heart attack you dirty girl. You can feel just how hard I am."

I was unable to resist and would curl my hands backwards to caress her bottom through her dress, then slowly raise it until I could run my hands to the top of her thighs and fondle her rump through her undies. She would respond by grinding even more purposefully into my bum.

"Mmm...mmm I am soaking wet...stroke me, slide your fingers over my slit and rub my button. I want to cum so badly."

Nothing could stop my hands curling around to her tummy, then due south to gently squeeze and fondle her satin mound, feeling the oily sponge of her cunt as my fingers stole inside the hem. My cock would now be at full stretch, her little paws wanking it up and down with practiced strokes, threatening to explode it at any moment.

"Tomorrow, honey, before I go, I want you to spurt your cock all over every inch of me...especially my pretty knickers, a little keepsake I can use after I've left whenever I need to satisfy my lust."

In the meantime, however, I was left with an erection a donkey would envy for most of my waking hours. I wanted to reserve every drop for her, to thank her for the wonderful and erotic time she had given me and this seemed to be exactly what she wanted.

Marilyn would sit with us in the evening, we would share one sofa as normal and she would sit on the other, set at 90 degrees to ours. Whenever the missus left the room, Marilyn would slowly spread her thighs and sprawl wantonly on the sofa. More often than not, she would be wearing hold-up stockings and a carefully chosen pair of silk or satin panties. Pastel shades were favoured, she must have brought 100 with her as I had never seen the same pair twice. Ivory and pale grey, pinks and lemons, powder blue and pastel green. Occasionally a scarlet or midnight blue pair would appear, with a deep, dark shadow where her juices had soaked the material.

She would slip her tongue to the side of her mouth and begin to stroke her mound. I can't describe how erotic it was, the sense of danger coupled with this fetish dream would have me panting with lust. She would pull them aside to expose her lips, heavy with her sticky juices and wank herself off in front of me. She could recover in a flash if she had to and pull her frock over her knees in an instant, behaving like a virgin aunt, discussing English gardens like nothing had happened...I began to wonder if she rehearsed all this at weekends because she was so accomplished at it. Perhaps she did it with other men, I didn't mind in the slightest - I have learned to live in the moment and enjoy the simple pleasures in life without question.

Marilyn's penultimate day arrived, I had arranged to come home around lunchtime and spend some time alone with her. The morning couldn't pass quickly enough. A pre-arranged phone call from Marilyn only hastened my departure. Pretending to be a client, she said she was uber horny but would be a good girl until I got there, and by the way, the light had blown in the hallway, did I have a spare bulb? I explained they were in the hall cupboard and I would be with her shortly.

I made myself look flustered, busy and slightly tetchy with my project to keep my colleagues at arm's length. It worked like a dream and I left around 12.30. 

I opened the front door of the house to be met by a wondrous sight. Marilyn was standing on a small step-ladder, her bottom at my eye-level, in the process of changing the bulb. Her dress was slightly shorter than normal and her feet were planted about 9 inches apart. She completely ignored my presence, muttering to herself about the bulb.

"Why don't you take a little peek, honey?"

I slowly, luxuriously, slid to the floor and my eyes scanned slowly from her ankles, past her knees to the deep and wonderful chasm between her legs. I couldn't really see very much, but was more than content with the moment. She bent so very slowly to dismount, opening her thighs just enough for me to see she was wearing a gorgeous pair of sheer, flesh coloured stockings and pearly white satin knickers. I could resist no longer and reached between her legs to stroke directly onto her puffy vulva. 

She moaned and moaned like a small animal and began to rub her breasts. 

"That is lush, so very lush, honey, I haven't touched myself all morning, just waiting for your fingers...I bet my pussy is soaking."

I slid my fingers inside the hem of her sodden knickers, wetting my fingers in the process enough to place in her open mouth to taste her own honey.

"Upstairs," she murmured.

I helped her down and pushed her backwards onto the stairs, raising her dress to bury my face between her thighs. I stroked her with my mouth, pulling the knickers aside to taste her then kissing her to share the sticky goo.

She turned and scampered to the top, deliberately swishing her hips to let me see as much as possible...by the time I reached the bedroom, she was bent over the end of the bed, her dress around her waist, looking behind her, waiting for the sexfest to begin.

I fell to my knees behind her and buried my face in the groove of her rump, nuzzling and kissing and licking every morsel of her ample derriere. Still barely held in my jeans, my cock was on fire and I pressed it into the groove, sliding it up and down along the crease, relishing the delights of her behind and pretty underwear as I slowly unfastened and removed my belt and my Levis.

My wet cocktip pressed firmly and neatly into the groove and I slid it up and down, watching as the sticky head appeared and disappeared in the pearly folds of her knickers. I pressed gently into the darker spot where her tiny hole lurked and she gasped her delight.

"Will you put it inside there for me later, honey - I do like a nice bum-fuck sometimes."

"Miaow."

"I want to ride you, honey, let me sit down on top of you."

I lay on the duvet and watched in awe as she disappeared from the room....

"I will just be a second," she said, suddenly, "don't start without me!"

I gently massaged my aching muscle, helpless to do much else, waiting for her return.

Suddenly she was there, wearing a dark pink satin nightdress. The peak of her nipples poking like wine corks from her breasts. She moved forward, stood unsteadily on the bed and walked slowly forward until I could clearly see right up her nightdress. She had changed into pink silk knickers fringed in white lace and she slowly and deliberately lowered her body until her luscious mound settled on my mouth. All I could do was moan and gasp as she massaged my face with her cunt. She slowly moved away, sliding her mound along my body until it reached my pulsing cock. She slid it easily inside her, past her panties and settled herself seated bolt upright and began to bounce slowly up and down.

"How about some of these," she said as she leant forward pressing her breasts into my mouth.

First one, then the other; the volcanic peaks stiff as little acorns brushing my lips. I began to push my hips upward, fucking her slowly and deeply, licking her nipples through the satin and stroking the draped hair from her face. She leant into me and fed me her breasts as she bucked up and down. 

Her breathing grew faster and deeper as she approached the inevitable rapid climax. Mewing like a kitten, she began to talk like it was her last breath.

"Fuck my sticky hole, honey, spurt your lovely, sticky spunk inside me, I want to feel it shoot up my cunt."

"Marilyn, I have been aching to do this for days, I have enough love-juice here to drown you, lassie."

"Oooooh this is soooo fucking nice," she said, "I am going to cum all over your cock in a second."

This was enough for me and my thrusts increased until I could feel her gasping, shuddering climax reaching the boil. 

"Mmmmm. Pull your cock out and splash your lovely creamy spunk all over my knickers, honey." 

Almost helplessly I slid my cock from inside her and as she climaxed I wanked slowly along her slit, waiting for her to finish to let her watch my little fountain. Her climax seemed to last an age, but eventually she regained control and bent her head to watch my pulsing cock as it splashed little jets of spunk onto her knickers...she reached down to catch the splash and massaged it all over her swollen clitoris and pussy lips, moaning and mewing as she did. When I eventually paused for breath, she leant into me once more and whispered in my ear.

"Before it goes soft, honey, slide it up my bum, I will cum again as sure as apples, I do love that gorgeous feeling of something pressing gently up that tight little hole. Sometimes I slide things in there just to finish myself off when I am really horny."

I took hold of my sodden, but still fully erect cock and pressed it firstly against her knickers for the thrill, then pulled them aside and gently probed the opening. I could feel some of my spunk dripping from her onto my fingers as I prised the puckered hole open and slowly, very slowly pushed the head carefully into the hole. It did feel so lustful as the twitching hole seemed to grasp my cock, so lovely and tight around the shaft.

"Spunk again up my bum, I am going to cum again any second," she gasped.

I can't believe how quickly I reached the point again and felt the rush as another wave of spunk rushed up my cock at the very moment her hips began to buck. We met somewhere in the middle, climaxing together in a heaving, breathless, cum splattered mess. She was panting like a steam train, barely able to speak as the final push spurted inside her to finally drip along my cock and onto my belly.

We collapsed in a heap together, kissing and cuddling and gasping for air, then giggling and laughing at our sweat and cum-soaked state. 

Dear woman that she is, she shooed me off for a shower and tidied up as only a woman can, before kissing me goodbye to return to work and prepare for her journey the following day. I left the house with my head in the clouds for the remaining few hours in the office.

We did have one more, brief rendezvous before she returned to the States early the following week; that will be the final episode in my journey with Marilyn. I haven't met up with her since, although we do occasionally have a lovely, warm, sexy encounter on the internet where we relive some of the glorious moments we shared that summer.

Laplappapillon



Fleeting Glimpses Ch. 04



Marilyn kept in constant touch during her stay in Brighton. She had tracked down the church where her great grandparents were buried and traced some of their ancestry through church records and the indulgence of the local priest. She would send me short text messages with the data and I would log it for her on software designed for the purpose.

She had made me laugh one evening during a phone call. She is quite a funny person anyway, with a puckish sort of humour and a throwaway wit, but is disarmingly naive in some departments.

"That priest I met today was real nice, he was so patient and helpful and spoke perfect English, most priests I ever met were Irish, even the American ones."

"You can't tell a cockney from a scouser, how do you know he was English?"

"He was polite, quite good looking in a kinda newsreader way and he talked about the weather a lot. He also blushed like a girl when I kissed his cheeks as I left."

"He is a priest, Marilyn, a celibate, he isn't accustomed to blousy women snogging him"

"I know that, honey, but he is also a man and I just wanted to remind him, so to reinforce the point, I just wiggled my bottom at him as I left....and when I opened the door to leave, I turned to wave and he was sitting on a pew with his head in his hands. Do you think he will be ok?"

"He will be fine, lass, he is probably still standing in a cold shower, looking down on the unemployed....."

She seemed content that she had exhausted all the available resources and delighted that she had discovered some ancient photographs in the local newspaper's archives. She took copies of these to add to the steadily expanding family tree with which she planned to excite her relatives in Somewheresville on rainy evenings.

Marilyn's flight was on the Sunday morning from Gatwick. Further from here than Heathrow, but way less stressful to negotiate. She had designed her vacational route quite cannily, a hire car here, a train journey there and all designed to gain the most of the English experience. She assured me that she had enjoyed a wonderful and interesting time in our quaint and beautiful country. 

"I just adore those stone walls you have everywhere and cute churches and those circly things on the freeway."

"They are roundabouts, Marilyn, designed to smooth the flow of traffic at busy junctions."

"They didn't smooth the flow when I was on them, some of them were on the wrong side of the road...we have traffic lights in those situations, clear as crystal, and while we are on the subject, what are those yellow chequerboards for? they seem to cause a lot of honking"

"You lead a charmed life, lass"

Marilyn suggested that we meet one final time before her flight on the Sunday. Consequently, I told the missus I was having a fishing weekend and had found a place that looked promising, waving vaguely in the direction of Essex.She doesn't know North from South or where she is in the universe, if I had said Azerbaijan she would have been equally unimpressed.

"Catch me some of those nice rainbow trout and don't fall in." 

This was her stock response but I laughed with her anyway.

We arranged to meet in a small hotel in Burgess Hill, about 10 miles equidistant from Brighton and Gatwick. I had been slightly despondent when she left the previous week, we'd had good fun together and some amazing frolics, so I was sorry to see her go. However, my spirits lifted when I stopped at a service station on the M25 for coffee and a text message came through.

B SURE 2 B HERE B4 12.NICE THINGS @ 12 :-) ....M xx

I was easily on schedule and switched on the radio to supplement my rapidly improving mood.It may have been Capitol radio or Virgin, I can't quite recall. Fate is funny like that, all the songs for the next half hour were perfect, memory prodders of good times with good people in good places. Harry Nillson singing "Always" was followed by Sinead O Connor's cover of Kurt Cobain's " All apologies" then Extreme singing "More than words" and a beautiful a capella version of Neil Young's "After the goldrush"

The journey disappeared in a flash and I pulled up in the courtyard a classic Victorian manor house hotel. Alighting from the car, I spotted Marilyn exiting from the porticoed front door and skipping bouncily down the steps. She was wearing a strawberry coloured dress with a little white belt, white court shoes and a white cardigan tied around her shoulders.....she favoured the 1950's thing and was mature enough to look good in it. To my mind she has a sort of Anne Bancroft thing going on in her appearance and if I had to pigeonhole her, that's where she'd be.

"My Scotch honey lamb!!" she squealed "Come here and let me eat you!!" 

"Hello Yankee, gimme a squeeze!!"

"mmm you smell like Givenchy"

"You smell like fruit...lemony and coconut"

"You can nibble on my coconuts later, honey, you have perfect timing, the afternoon shift starts in 10 minutes and we have to get a ringside seat" 

Bemused and bewilderd, but with growing excitement, I begged the question "What is the big secret Mazza? why 12 particularly?"

"We have just got time to order a glass of wine and relax before the show" she said mysteriously.

We ordered some bone-dry white burgundy and sat in the galleried foyer, which quirkily had a huge mahogany wall clock immediately opposite. I slowly soaked in the Architecture. Our richly padded sofa was set in a niche, beneath and between the lower and upper flights. The 3 sided staircase was beautiful; Baltic oak panelled on the flank walls with turned barley-sugar balusters and ramshorn scrolling on the newels. 

The walls above the dado were painted with very expensive Wedgewood blue eggshell paint and between the quarter landings a spectacular stained glass window threw shards of violent coloured light over our heads onto the mosaic tiled floor.Although it was a classical Victorian whimsy with fawns and ivy and pretty girls, it reminded me, ironically, of a striking, yet austere black and white image taken in Central station, New York.

Although Marilyn would have appreciated all of this, she was visibly excited for patently other reasons. She grasped my hand as the clock struck the hour, her breasts were palpably heaving and she was grinning at me like an idiot.

"What the hell is going to happen" I thought "This is a little like being in a film"

The impressive 8 panelled door beneath the clock sprung open, making me jump. A young man dressed in a beautifully tailored black suit and waistcoat, with sky-blue bowtie and shiny white shirt strode purposefully towards us, looking very busy and veered to take the steps 2/3 at a time till he disappeared from view.

Marilyn whispered "Maitre D" 

20 seconds later, The door opened with slightly less haste and a scrubbed young lad dressed in a bellhboy suit strolled towards the lift, doffing his cap at us and smiling, obviously pleased to be doing whatever he does. I strangely began to slightly envy him working in this place.

Marilyn whispered "Bellhop"

Marilyn began to move her hand from mine and rest it on my leg. It lazily lay mid-thigh for a few seconds, then the door opened again. 

A girl appeared, slightly silhouetted by the powerful rays from the stained glass behind us. Slender, dark and very pretty, she smiled a shy, even coy smile in our direction and busied herself with keys and armsful of fluffy white towels.

Marilyn whispered "Chambermaid" and began to mover her hand around my thigh.

I couldn't help but watch. The girl was in her early 20's, slightly Italian looking with chocolate brown eyes. A mass of curly black hair was partly disciplined beneath a little white maid's hat. She had a long forgotten pair of spectacles tucked into the V of her tiny, pert and perfect little bosom. 

The dress of the outfit itself was classically chambermaid. Black, just above the knee, waisted and sexy. As she placed her foot on the first riser of the stair, she turned her head to look at us.

Boldly she gazed, retaining her smile, yet suddenly confident and glowing.

She began to climb, never taking her eyes from us for a second. alternating between us. Something in my instincts told me that I should focus like a cat on what was happening. The girl had reached midway on the first flight when I felt Marilyn's hand move. Her fingers were almost at the top of my thigh. 

She leant towards me, never taking her eyes from the girl and whispered conspiratorially "She has done this every day this week. She even did it just for me one afternoon, she just loves showing off and making people horny."

Her hand was now nudging the quietly swelling bulge in my jeans.She seemed impervious to anyone watching, though I was wishing that I had an extra couple of eyes to cope with this hedonistic miracle.

"I watched her 2 nights ago doing it to a man and his wife, they vanished minutes later and I haven't seen them since...."

The girl began to skip a little, sometimes even down a tread, the skirt of her little frock dancing up and down. Coquettishly she did a little twirl on the 2nd quarter landing and as her skirts flicked up, a little flash of thigh caught a shaft of blue light. I am caught in a cabaret dream sequence. 

Marilyn's hand, now covered by her cardigan was gently massaging my manhood which had adopted a scary size.

I am certain that only the 3 of us shared this moment...the girl rested her hands on the balcony handrail almost directly overhead, leant slightly backwards and slowly slid her legs apart. We could both see right up her dress, albeit 10 feet above us. Marilyn was mewing like a kitten. I was about to faint with lust. Her thighs were spread sufficiently for us to see the hourglass of her knickers. Shiny white satin knickers, soft and gorgeous set within a canopy of Belgian lace petticoats. Puffy mound swollen into a peach. It lasted maybe 10 - 15 seconds before she slowly turned her back. 

Marilyn whispered "I can't describe how horny I am"

The girl now had her back to us and dropped a towel on the carpet. She bent to pick it up providing us with an unforgettable flash of her perfect derriere. Her bottom curves were smooth bubbles of satin, the plump orbs stretching my muscle to the limit. One final smile and she was gone. All around us was just as serene as when I entered, the whole episode had lasted maybe 3 minutes and I was completely shellshocked.

Marilyn whispered "You owe me one, buster!" 

I remember saying "I think you are the best, Mazza. you have been a great big friend to me for years and without a doubt the sexiest woman I know, we will have fun tonight, and lovely warm cosy sleep. Enjoy your flight tomorrow and call me when you're home."

Marilyn whispered one final time "I have a small request, honey, would you mind taking me upstairs and jamming your mouth up my cunt?"

I followed her as we climbed the stair, 2 steps behind, watching her plumptious bottom rocking and rolling in a strawberry sea. In moments, my face would be in there somewhere and I speculated thoughtfully on the colour of her knickers. I had a glimpse of her brassiere as we sat on the sofa and she leaned forward. It was a sort of terracotta colour with a lacy trim, unusual but warm and inviting. I had no doubts in my mind that her knickers would be the same.

Our room was conveniently at the top of the stairs and I followed her in. I closed the door and turned to see Marilyn propped on one elbow on the bed. one leg was cocked and her dress had slid to mid-thigh. As I walked slowly towards her, she lay back on the elegant four poster bed and slowly spread her thighs apart. My guess was good; silky terracotta knickers with a little white, lace hem, rolled around her inner curves, disappearing into the hollow of her bottom.

I knelt before her, drinking in the whole erotic feast and stooped my mouth to kiss her darkening mound. The scent of her musk was so heady, I began to unbutton my jeans......

to be continued.....

Laplappapillon



Fleeting Glimpses Ch. 05



Marilyn sat up to face me as I untangled myself from my clothes. Pulling my face towards her, she spattered it with kisses, licking my mouth and neck like a cat, pushing her tongue fatly between my lips and sucking my breath like a Hoover.

Without warning, she slowly rolled away from me, cocking her legs aside in a strawberry flourish. She bent forward to kiss me, giving me a perfect glimpse down her cleavage at her plump and sumptuous breasts. 

"Just be a sec, honey, I need to freshen up."

I lay on my back, my skimpy white briefs sticking out at funny angles, poised for her re-entrance. She loved the drama, tension and excitement of our relationship and planned each occasion very carefully.

Her reappearance startled me slightly, she had changed into a mid blue business suit, vaguely mannish in its cut. She pirouetted round, expressing her delight at my reaction. The waisted jacket pulling her breasts together and the skin-tight skirt pronouncing and defining her hips and bottom perfectly. She looked delicious and I laughed and clapped at her display.

She swaggered forward; grinning with success and slowly fell on top of me, her hips on mine at 90°.

I felt the weight of her pelvis pressing against my belly, she folded her arms and rested her head, sliding her body into position, her tummy squarely on my manhood, she turned and mouthed the words;

"Stroke my bottom, honey, do whatever you want, but stroke my bottom first. I am wearing a nice, fresh pair of knickers for you to munch on."

I complied without question, smoothing my palms over the rambling hills of her derriere, stroking the profile of her knickers and pressing the heel of my hand along the crease.

"I can feel the bulge of your cock prodding my belly..."

"And I can feel the heat draught of your body; it is sending a warm current between your legs."

"Spank me..."

This took a moment to register.

"Spank me gently, honey, I know you wouldn't hurt me, so spank me till I say enough..."

My cock was pulsing like a heat pump as I slowly but purposefully slapped her rump at 2-3 second intervals. 

Every slap brought a deeper mewing from her mouth. 

"Just a little harder..."

My hand began to tingle and it crossed my mind that if this was me, I would be saying "enough!" I did gain a degree of pleasure, that is undeniable, but more to do with her response than the act of doing it...I slapped her harder, but coupled this between the pauses by stroking deeper and deeper into the crevasse of her rump.

"Your cock feels so hot and hard."

I curled my hand beneath her and inside her jacket, which by now had become somewhat crumpled, to fondle her breasts as I steadily spanked and stroked. I could feel her nipples tight and stiff inside her bra and twisted her slightly to watch the slow exposition of her body.

Her eyes were almost fully glazed with lust as she began to part her thighs, pressing against me in unmistakeable signal to run my hands up her skirt.

I stroked around her stockings, hungry for her centre of gravity but loving the pleasure she was deriving from my ministration. She reached down and hitched her skirt a little higher, reducing the pressure and spreading her thighs a little further apart. My hand wandered higher, I could feel the tiny beads of moisture on her legs as I reached the hem of her knickers. She slowly pulled up her skirt, exposing half of her white, glossy silk undies for my delectation.

"I went lingerie shopping yesterday...this is what I found."

The tight but sexy fabric of her skirt was suddenly replaced by a soft and sleek marshmallow of what appeared to be very nice quality silk and lace... A little label with "strumpet and pink" peeked shyly from the waistband. 

"Spank me again..."

With bursting veins in my cock, I slowly slapped her bottom, experienced now in the requisite physics to provide the perfect result. My spanking slowed to maybe once every 5 seconds, increasing her anticipation and allowing me time to fondle her rump again. I began to slide my fingers along her crease, feeling the astonishing oily wetness inside. She had almost lost control and spread her legs obscenely apart.

"Put your hand in the pocket of my skirt, honey...there's something in there I would love you to try out for me," she almost whispered.

I had noticed a slight bulge in her jacket pocket, but assumed it was a handkerchief. I dipped inside and pulled out a pair of her plain white satin panties, freshly laundered and smelling faintly of her favoured perfume.

"Would you like to change into those, please, mmmm I would love to fondle your cock through them."

This was a first for me, but by no means discomforting or troubling. I stood up by the side of the bed with my back to her and slowly (I think seductively ha ha ha ha) stripped off my M & S briefs to don the little knickers.

I felt her lips kiss by bum as I stooped to put them on and paused to enjoy the moment...she was running her tongue around the crease where my thigh meets my bum and added to the fun by placing her fingers between my legs and gently stroking my balls.

As I pulled them into place, I turned to look at Marilyn's pose of total abandon. She was now lying on her side; her legs apart, her knickers sporting a lovely damp patch. She pulled me gently towards her and began mouthing my cock through the satin. I was too aroused for words and closed my eyes as she began to fondle me through the material, pressing ever more firmly with her mouth against my throbbing erection.

She pulled the front of the knickers down, enough to release the tip of my cock and gently pulled the foreskin back, releasing a small trickle of fluid in the process. She mewed softly and putting the bulb into her mouth, began to softly wank me up and down with her lips. 

All the while she caressed and fondled my bum and my balls through the material - it was becoming too much for me and I felt my thighs and lower legs trembling slightly as she sucked.

Unwilling to release my juices at that moment, I coaxed her into stopping.

"I loved spanking your bottom, Mazza, may I do it for just a little longer?"

She mewed her acceptance and flipped over into position, pulling off her rumpled jacket in the process. I set myself down beside her, my cocktip sticking out from the top of her knickers just a few inches from her face. Slowly and gingerly I began to slap her bottom once again.

She seemed to be in rapture and squirmed lewdly around beside me as I spanked her.

"I am going to cum in a moment," she said. "When I say the word, would you put your cock against my bum?"

Needing no further encouragement I moved into position. She lifted herself into a kneeling position crouched over, with her skirt in place, allowing me the pleasure of raising it again. 

Slowly I lifted the hem, gradually exposing the rounded bulges of her bottom and the pretty strumpet and pink knickers. The damp patch had spread outward, the juices now soaking the whole of her plump fanny and the groove of her bum.

I pulled my (her) knickers down just far enough to release my cock...I was really beginning to enjoy the sensation of the satin and made several mental notes. I pressed the length gently into her bum groove and began to slide it up and down.

I could see the pinkness at the edges of her knickers where my accuracy had failed, but it seemed to be of little consequence, I stroked the areas gently in a soothing motion as my muscle rubbed up and down her crease.

I slid the tip between her legs, massaging her slit, feeling and seeing the growing wetness and listening to her rapid, hastening gasps. 

"Slide your cock inside my cunt, honey, I am soooo horny and need to feel you splashing me all over."

I did as she asked and spread her pretty knickers aside to easily slide into her sodden and oily puss. She gasped as I slowly drove forward, mouthing her usual torrent of erotic filth.

"Oh dear God! My cunt is on fire, I want your spunk all over me," she almost choked the words, "splash my sweet fanny and spread your lovely hot spunk all around."

No sooner had she said it than I felt her tremble in the helpless precursor to her orgasm. Mine too was not far behind and I felt the sticky wetness of her fanny against my thighs as I thrust my manhood into her gurgling hole.

She bucked and fucked against me as her climax struck, I remember thinking to myself "I wonder if anyone can hear this?" 

We seemed to be making such a squelchy noise, never mind her tirade of very sexy, but quite voluble passion.

Finally, just as I felt her knees give way, I felt the rush as my own climax peaked and quickly slid my cock from her juice soaked quim. I know she loves that moment when cum splashes, so I urged her to put her fingers into place.

I carefully positioned my cock close to her fingers and watched as my spunk shot in little jets to splash against her fingers and smooth shaven fanny. She made almost as much noise during this as when she had her own climax which somehow served me to provide several copious spurts of the milky white cum onto her fingers, palms and quim.

Marilyn rolled forwards, spreading the juices all around her knickers and fanny, slowly regaining her breath. I slipped off the little pair of knickers, wet with both our juices and placed them into the pocket of my jeans; I still have them, though I have yet to reprise the wearing of them. 

We shared a long, lingering kiss to complete our perfect afternoon and I could feel her hands beneath us, wallowing around in the sticky goo as she murmured sleepily in my ear.

"I am going to miss you, this has been such a wonderful, sexy vacation which I won't ever forget."

I reassured her that it was unlikely to be the last and certainly worth repeating at the first opportunity. Eventually we drifted off to sleep, the alarm set for her morning flight. I hid a bottle of her favourite perfume in the side pocket of her luggage before she finally left and a small gift which I knew she would enjoy - one of those little painted, pink, East Anglian thatched houses with a flint wall around it and a little wishing well...classically English to remind her of the fun she had enjoyed. She called me from home as soon as she arrived to thank me.

We equally enjoyed the experiences of the times we had shared and warmly relive them during our carefully structured and periodic telephone calls. I am eternally thankful to Marilyn for her warmth, candour and unconditional passion.

End