1 comments/ 7414 views/ 2 favorites No Flying Tonight Ch. 06-07 By: lindseymarsh No Flying Tonight Ch. 06-07 "You're not trying to get me drunk are you?" That was precisely what he was trying to do; although he was not going to admit it. "No, I just thought I'd make this my last one and so I decided on a large one." Halfway through her drink Sophie got up and sat down on the floor at the foot of his chair. She put her arm on his knee and stared into the fire. "You know when I told you I couldn't remember when I'd had so much fun - well it's true. I can't remember ever having as much fun at a dance as I've had tonight. In fact, I can't remember ever enjoying myself as much as I have tonight." "You must have. Surely at least once in your married life you must have been out with your husband and had a really good time." Sophie paused and, in almost a whisper, said, "Iain and I were married for twenty-two years, engaged for three and went out for two years before that and, apart from the first year we went out together, I don't think I ever could say I enjoyed our life together." Jack looked at her; surprised by her statement. She was telling him things about her relationship with her husband he had not expected to hear. She continued, "Are you happy Jack? Would you change anything you've done in your life if you could?" Jack didn't know what to say, his life had been almost idyllic. His mother and sister had catered to his every need, his father had shared his hobby with him and his girl-friend had made love to him without the usual demands faced by his peers. The most difficult choice he had ever had to make was what to buy his mother and sister for Christmas. Now he was being asked questions he had never considered and being told secrets which had implications he couldn't understand. How could anyone live with someone for twenty-two years if they weren't happy? "I think I'm happy, in fact I'm sure I am and I don't think I would change much - other than my decision to buy my mother the Fair Isle cardigan I got her for last Christmas. But, what I don't understand is, how you could you live with someone for as long as you did if you weren't happy?" When she had asked the question Sophie had wanted to hear his reply but now, feeling the effects of the drink, she was no longer interested in his answer and, instead, was thinking again how much she had enjoyed herself and how good-looking Jack was. He was young; too young for her and, yet, he was handsome - particularly in his uniform - he obviously enjoyed her company and he made her feel good. Almost against her will, she started to think 'what would he be like as a lover? The thought aroused her; hardening her nipples and making her cunt moisten. The last time Sophie could remember having been, even partly, drunk was at the end of her first year school when, in the absence of her fiancé, she had attended a university dance with a girl friend. She had danced and drunk all night and, afterwards, had finished up in bed with a member of the varsity football team and, she had to admit, had thoroughly enjoyed both the dance and the sex. Tonight, although she wasn't quite as drunk, she was feeling as least as amorous as she had on that occasion. Jack had made her happy and she wanted to repay him and the only way she could think of which, at that moment, was to sleep with him. She got up, unsteadily, from her seat on the floor and sat on his lap. He shifted slightly as he felt her bum press against his, almost erect, cock. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Jack kissed her back; savouring the smell of her perfume, which she had obviously dabbed on her neck since she got home, and the warm feel of her tits on his chest. They kissed for almost twenty seconds before she broke away and then leant forward slightly, providing him with a perfect view of her bra-less tits. She knew what she was doing and Jack knew she knew what she was doing but, more importantly, he thought he knew why she was doing it. He reached inside her robe and traced a line on her skin down to her tit. He cupped first one and then the other, comparing them to Jane's. They were bigger, at least a cup size, and, although they sagged slightly, felt, in the closest word he could find at that moment to describe them; 'womanly'. The nipples were neither as pink nor anywhere near as large as Jane's but, even before he touched them, they were erect. She responded to his touch by wriggling sideways so that she was sitting on his thigh; giving her better access to his cock. She reached into his dressing-gown and moved her hand along his thigh until she reached his manhood; it was big -- really big. The university lineman had been big, both longer and fatter than her husband, but this was enormous. "Gosh," she said and then, with a laugh, added, "I didn't realise they made them this big in England." She started to play with his cock; wiping his pre-come with her index finger she ran it around the head, coating it and making it slick. He was excited but he knew, unlike his first time with Jane, he wasn't going to come after the first dozen strokes. He reached down and untied her robe letting it fall off her shoulders revealing her tits and her pubic mound. His first unrestricted view of her tits confirmed he had been right. Her tits were bigger than Jane's, although they sagged a little more and her nipples were much smaller and slightly darker. There were other differences; her areolas were a very light tan, while Jane's were English-rose pink and her pubic hair was darker and far more luxuriant. He moved his hand down to her mound and started to stroke and play with her pubic hair before moving to her cleft. He tried to insert a finger into her cunt, but found it difficult as there was little room for her to spread her legs. Sensing the problem, she got up from his thigh and lay on a rug in front of the fire; patting it in an invitation for him to join her. Jack looked at her as she lay on the rug, her body bathed in the orange glow from the fire, taking in every nuance of her body. He was amazed at the incongruity of the situation. Here he was, a twenty year old airman, over 3,000 miles from home, sitting by a fire, drinking scotch and looking at a forty-something woman, lying naked on a rug, who was obviously available to be treated as he wished. Just over a year ago he had been a virgin, whose only forays into the world of sex had been conducted in the dark and cold of the local cricket pavilion. He took off the dressing-gown and sat beside her, his cock pointing directly in the air, his pre-come glistening in the light of the fire. She couldn't stop herself giggling as, once again, she took in its size. She reached out and stroked it almost reverently, using her other hand to cup his balls. It was beautiful. Iain had been circumcised and she had always thought his cock was ugly; somehow incomplete; mutilated. In comparison Jack's cock was magnificent. From its tip, which poked out from its distended foreskin, to his balls, it reminded her of the stallion at her uncle's farm. As she remembered the stallion, she also remembered watching the coverings at the stud and wondered whether she was going to be treated like a brood mare in heat and made to stand and wait before being serviced by the stud. The thought excited her. She had seen the stallion servicing the mare. She had watched him sniff the air, trying to catch the odour of a fertile female. She had watched his cock extend from its sheath; seen him mount his waiting inamorata; seen him thrust his swollen cock deep into her cunt; seen him bite her neck forcing her into submission and, finally, she had watched as he had fucked her and flooded her cunt with his come. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. When she reached the point where she was recalling the stallion's final spasms, she shuddered in sympathy and reached for her cunt. Jack had no idea what was happening to Sophie. He had felt her shudder, but thought it was in response to the movement of his fingers over her body. He had started at her shoulder, moved down to her left tit, where he had teased and circled the nipple and then repeated it with her right tit before moving, very slowly and very gently, down to her belly. When he reached her belly, she released his cock, removed her hand from her clit and lay with her eyes closed enjoying the sensation. Jack playing with her tits had stimulated her, but it was the vivid memories of the stallion and the mare which had flooded her cunt. She was ready; she wanted to come and, as his fingers trailed over her belly, her stomach muscles contracted involuntarily, in anticipation of him playing with her cunt. When he reached her mound, he dribbled his fingers through her pubic hair. When he reached her cunt, he traced his finger along the top of her labia searching for her clit and, when he found it, he stroked it once and then pulled back the hood. She squirmed, but relaxed when he took a finger from his other hand, licked it and, still holding back the hood, started to play with her clit. Jane had taught him well and it was only a couple of minutes before she started to buck against his hand. "Stick your fingers in me Jack -- I'm coming, but I need to feel something in me." He was ready to oblige; he stopped playing with her clit and, in one move, mounted her and pushed his knee between her legs. She hadn't expected it, but was ready for him. "Be careful, it's been a long time since I've been with a man." "I will." Although he wasn't sure just how careful 'careful' was. She opened her legs and, when his cock probed for her cunt, grasped it and fed it slowly into her, adjusting her hips every time she let more of him in. Her cunt was soaked in her juices but, to his surprise, while she was not as tight as Jane she was tighter than he had expected. The first time he'd made love to Jane it'd taken some time to enter her, even though she had no hymen. Sophie was a married woman who'd had two children and he couldn't understand why she was taking him in so slowly; particularly if he was to believe what his RAF friends had said about women who'd given birth. In the end she managed to take him all in, only stopping when the tip of his cock pushed against her cervix. They started to fuck; slowly at first but, as he got excited, he started to pound her; his cock hitting the base of her cunt with almost every thrust. She responded by wrapping her legs around his and her arms around his shoulders; almost in a death hug. As he started to come, he tried to sense where she was. When he'd played with her clit he had known she was on the verge of coming but, as they fucked, she didn't seem to be responding. She had her arms round his chest and her legs around his but she wasn't moving in concert with him. She wasn't responding to his thrusts. It was as if she was just lying there, being fucked. Had he been more experienced, he might have stopped and asked what the problem was, but he had reached a point where he had a beautiful woman between his legs and was almost ready to come. As he neared his climax his thrusting became more intense and then, at the final moment, he pulled his cock back so that the end was just between the lips and then thrust forward, as if trying to drive it directly into her womb. After he had come, he lay on top of her for a while before easing his still dripping cock out of her and lying at her side. He reached to kiss her and, as he did, tasted salt -- she was crying. Initially confused, he leant back and looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, but the tears running down her face clearly indicated she was upset. "Sophie, what's the matter?" She said nothing, but turned and hid her face in the rug. "Sophie, have I done something wrong? If I have, tell me what it was." One again she didn't reply. "Do you want me to go? I will if you want .... although I've no idea why." Still sobbing, she turned her head, slightly, and looked at him. "What's the matter? What's upset you?" She paused, started to speak and then hesitated. He could see she wanted to tell him something, but was hesitant to say anything, probably, he thought, because what she wanted to tell him was either too private or too shameful. "If it's something too private, you don't have to tell me." She paused once again and thought how her life had unfolded; how a life without care had changed to a life of torment. "I would like to tell you and, some day, I shall. Bear with me Jack. I promise you, next time will be different." Jack wasn't sure it would be; but this women was different; beautiful and intelligent but, somehow, vulnerable. The chiming of a clock interrupted his thoughts. It was the half hour, but which half hour? He looked at his watch, which had been a going-away present from his sister, saw it was 12.30 a.m. and realised he was already late reporting back. He got up quickly; looking for his clothes. "I hadn't realised it was this late. I'm supposed to be back by midnight." She got up; still in the nude. She would have never walked around naked for her husband, but felt comfortable with this man who was younger than her daughter. "Take the car. I can't drive, but I've kept Iain's car for my son and daughter to use. It'll only take you twenty minutes to get back to Mount Hope and you can return it when you like." Returning it might be a problem; being late meant being reported to the C.O. and the usual penalty was fourteen days CB -- confined to barracks. "Thanks, but you don't have to do it. I can get a taxi." "Please take it. I want you to." There was something in her voice which told him she was being more than just polite and wanted an excuse for him to return to her house. "O.K., but it may be a couple of weeks."