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My Affair with Morag

Category: Mature
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This an absolutely true story, although the names have been altered, and obviously I cannot vouch for the actual words used in the conversations – but the gist of them is more or less true, and certainly the events are as I remember them to this day. Apart, that is, from the scene in the restaurant with Zena where I exaggerated her mode of dress, but not too much. She really did buy a new mini-dress for the occasion.

In my capacity as an educational bookseller I often visited schools and head teachers and was fairly well known on my circuit. But it was after I had met up with a young lady, whom I later found was called Morag, at one of the teachers’ conferences that this story began. We had somehow paired off together, and I was pleased to have a companion at the various functions, until the night after one of the many functions when we both had had a little too much to drink. Nevertheless we were still quite capable, and it was probably euphoria rather than drunkenness which contributed to our finding ourselves on a bench on the sea-front in the moonlight. Luckily it was a particularly warm night, and we were chatting and laughing together, completely on our own without another soul around.

As quite often happens on occasions such as this, two almost strangers enjoying a brief flirtation with the knowledge that we would probably never meet again, we were both a little more daring than either of us would normally had been, and so I found that when I boldly put my hand on her knee as we tentatively kissed, her response was what I had hoped for, inasmuch as she made no response whatsoever, other than increase the pressure of our kiss, and so I risked sliding my hand underneath her kilt and began to stroke the sheer nylon beneath. Again no rebuff from her encouraged me to begin to creep higher on her thigh until it reached the top where she was already beginning to part her thighs. But as she was wearing tights it was not the easiest thing to do to go further without some effort or even some encouragement on her part, although her negative response had been encouragement in itself. But she did respond when my hand began to apply pressure on her buried pussy, as she broke our kiss to say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not taking my tights off here, and in any case if you intend seeing me again we shall have to save something until then so as to have something to look forward to. Don’t you agree?”

So she was not unwilling to go further. In fact she was openly inviting me to see her again and to give me more of herself next time!

Needless to say, then, I found out where she lived and at which school she was teaching. And as this was the last night of the conference it also meant that we would not be able to meet again unless it was in her home area.

I made a promise to meet here in a couple of weeks’ time when schools would be back in session and then escorted her to her hotel. But other than another passionate goodnight kiss nothing further happened that night.

Remember, though, that this was some time ago when “boy meets girl” occasions were somewhat different, and more restrained in approach, and usually taking weeks or even months before venturing even as far as I had already done

However, exactly three weeks later I was able to be in her area, so obviously I was determined to look her up.

I hung around outside her house for over an hour, hoping that she would come out so that I could speak to her, and I was fortunate inasmuch as she came outside for some reason or other and saw me standing there.

She laughed at me, then, and said that I should have come to the door, as her parents knew all about meeting me. So she invited me inside and introduced me to her mother and father, who seemed quite happy for me to be seeing their daughter I spite of the fact (if she had told them, that is) that I was some fifteen years older than she was, and also that I was already married. Their attitude seemed to be that they were happy for her to have someone to meet up with, as since she had left college and started teaching she had been fairly lonely for some reason or other.

However, she left us for a few minutes whilst I chatted with her parents and her father suggested restaurants, after I had asked his advice, being a stranger in the area. In fact, he telephoned one whilst I was there and booked a table for us both in an hour’s time. Then Morag re-appeared and her father told her that he had booked a table. She seemed delighted with his response to me, and after she had kissed them both goodbye we walked to my car.

As we got in she turned to me and said, “I hope you did not mind my leaving you for a few minutes at home. Actually it was because I was wearing tights again, so I went to change for some stockings and suspenders. I hope you will approve!”

Approve? I was over the moon. So she had meant what she had said when we last met about something to look forward to!

Anyway, nothing happened out of the ordinary as we drove some distance to the restaurant, and we had a delightful meal, where I learned quite a lot more about her. This was her first teaching post, she was twenty-five years old, presently living with her parents but hopefully some day she would have a pad of her own, and possibly teach at a larger school than the one she was presently at, which was quite a small one, and so carried no extra posts other than headmaster and three assistants. She liked music, she was good at maths, she had played hockey for the college and was quite athletic. It was when we were finishing our coffee after the meal that she also said quietly, so that no other table could hear her, that she was also no longer a virgin, and felt that she ought to inform me of the fact in case I had any qualms.

This latter revelation was also a blatant invitation! Because we were amidst others within hearing distance I said no more until I was helping her on with her coat, after she had excused herself to go to the toilet.

We were then nearer to the door, and our voices could not have been as easily overheard, as she said very quietly, “But I have kept my knickers on for the time being, as I have a feeling that you would like the pleasure of taking them off later on!”

Once we were in my car, though, I was a little amused to see the way she carefully arranged her coat and kilt so that her knees, which had been slightly on view as she got into the car, were once more decently covered. She noticed my amusement and laughed as she said, “Just so that you can concentrate on your driving. You can see more when we actually stop.”

“I can stop now,” I began, but she shushed me and explained that she knew a small country lane nearby which was hardly ever used with the exception of couples who might want a little privacy.

Following her directions we turned off the road and along a very narrow country lane, tree-lined and dark, until we came to an opening into a field, with a gated entrance, so that there was just room to park the car off the road and in case someone else came along.

“Now,” she said flippantly. “If you want to switch the interior light on I’ll show you my knees!”

I lost no time in switching it on, whereupon she climbed out of the car, slipped off her coat and threw it into the back before getting in again, and teasingly began to slide her kilt up to reveal her nylon-sheathed knees.

Cheekily she looked up at me and asked, “Am I showing enough, or do you want me to go higher?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” I told her, to which she replied, “Ah, but I must tell you here and now – unless you specifically ask for anything you will not get it. And I was at a mixed college, so there are no words you can teach me, so don’t be afraid to use them if there is something specific you want me to do. And I strongly object to using tame-sounding synonyms when there is probably a perfectly adequate word to describe what you want, even if it is a word you would object to hearing in a classroom. So, do you want me to raise my kilt higher?”

“Please,” I replied.

“How far shall I go?” she smiled.

“How far will you go?” I countered.

“Just tell me, and I will,” she teased.

“Stocking tops?” I ventured.

She did so immediately, and then said, “But showing those are too tame. Shall I go higher?”

I decided to venture into seeing how far she would take my verbal approach, although I, too, started tamely. “Show me your suspenders,” I commanded, and she immediately complied.

“That all?” she quizzed me.

“Up to your knickers!” I said.

She drew the kilt up until the tiniest glimpse of her white lace knickers was on show.

Again she quizzed me. “More yet? Perhaps it is as well that I have some knickers on, though. I don’t always wear them on a date unless there is a possibility that someone else might notice.”

“What a ‘come-on’ that was,” I thought to myself, and then decided to be really bold. I was about to risk her anger, but she had told me to be blunt, and not to mince words. Nevertheless I was quite apprehensive about asking the next question, and then plucked up the courage to do so at the risk of having my face slapped and never seeing her again.

“How many dates have you had when you left your knickers off, then? Or should I ask how many boy-friends you have had whom you dated in that way?” I asked warily.

Her reply came back quite laid-back as she said, “I am not too sure of the exact number, but at least half a dozen, although there have only been three whom I have allowed to go all the way, including the first boy I ever slept with at college. But they were all students at college with me. I have not met anyone else since I qualified and started to actually teach. At least, no-one I have actually liked, except one…….” and here she looked pointedly at me, “……and he will be taking my knickers off very shortly, unless I have severely mistaken his intentions!”

With that she pulled the hem of her kilt right to her waist, revealing, in the soft light of the car, the brevity of them, being delicate lace and dipping deeply in front so that the start of her cleft was apparent, hinting at pleasures only just hidden below the fine nylon lace. The kilt was also high enough now to see the thin strap of her suspender belt, and from which her exciting suspenders reached down, through the knickers, and on to her nylon stockings.

“Don’t think I am being just a tease,” she said, “but although you can take my knickers down and play with my pussy I do not wish to go any further this time. I want to have something to look forward to next week.”

I lost no time in pulling them down, though, and was so delighted when she actually assisted me, revealing closely cropped hair, but it was also so fine that nothing was hidden. And already her lips were glistening with anticipation, so that my fingers started to make an audible rhythm as her secretions caused the squelching noise which can only be associated with that activity.

As I continued to rub, and she began to breathe more heavily her hand reached out and sought my own solid erection, which had been straining against my trousers, and which I was in the process of freeing.

In only took seconds before I was spurting, and Morag giggled as she caught most of the spurts in her own knickers, panting though she was from her own exertions.

But then she, too, suddenly jumped as she orgasmed herself, and together we locked in a huge satisfied kiss.

As we finally broke away she laughed again. I shall have to wash these knickers myself when I get home. I don’t think mother would be overjoyed to find them in this condition!”

We made ourselves decent again, apart from her lack of knickers, that is, and I drove her home. I was quite surprised, though, that even though her father was outside and waiting for her, she still kissed me, although not quite as passionately as previously, as he came to ask if we had enjoyed the meal.

I was worried that he might smell all that sex as Morag got out of the car, but if he did he showed no awareness of it. But in spite of his presence there she still asked me if I would be taking her out again next week.

In fact we did go out again, and once more her father made the booking at the restaurant for us. This time, though, I went prepared, and had a packet of condoms with me. It was also amusing once more that her father came to see us off, and made no comment about his daughter’s brevity of her skirt, which was already revealing the tops of her stockings as she sat in the car.

Scarcely had we started off, though, than she burst out laughing.

“Poor Daddy,” she chuckled. “He looked a little apprehensive when he saw how brief my skirt is, as he was able to see the tops of my stockings. If only he knew I had no knickers on – he would have been shocked! Although Mummy seemed to suspect something, for earlier tonight she gave me another talk about being careful when out on a date, and then she came into my bedroom just as I was dressing for meeting you. I did not mind, as we are all used to seeing each other naked in our house, but I think she also noticed that I had not put any knickers on, for she said something about hoping I would not be too cold in such a short skirt!”

“And what did you say?” I asked her.

“I told her not to worry, as the restaurant would be warm, and so would you car be, as we did not intend getting out anywhere!”

And then she added, “But don’t get any ideas yet. I think we should eat first, so as not to be too late for the booking. But I might let you look under the table if the opportunity arises!”

We had another delightful meal once more, and afterwards we were sitting sipping our coffee when she seemed to furtively glance round, and seemed satisfied as she said, “If I drop my tea-spoon would you pick it up for me, please?”

Following her glance round I saw that no-one was actually looking in our direction, just as she deliberately dropped her spoon beneath the table. I knew instantly what her game was, and so as I bent to retrieve it my eyes locked onto her knees beneath the table, which she now parted sufficiently for me to discern in the subdued light that she was, indeed, knickerless!

It was only momentarily, though, as we did not want to draw attention to what we were up to.

“Never mind,” she smiled. “There will be more opportunity when we are in the car.”

As it was summer, the night had not yet descended as we got into the car to drive home (the long way round, of course) and I was treated to another delightful display as Morag deliberately flaunted herself for me by raising each foot in turn to get into the car seat, and once more I was entranced by her beautiful pussy, so openly exhibited for me.

As this was a different restaurant from last week I was again on a strange road, and so Morag directed me, as she had done the previous week, to another favourite hide-away of hers. How she knew of these places I did not know, nor did I attempt to find out.

This time, though, as soon as we stopped she opened her door and moved onto the rear seat, where she lay back, held her arms high in enticement, then deliberately placed one ankle over the front seat backs and the other onto the back of the rear seat, so that her legs were splayed widely in readiness for what she had promised.

I tore open my flies as I followed her into the rear, and fell upon her in an absolute frenzy, for she had managed to work me up to this pitch as we drove along, by telling me what we intended doing, by reminding me that she was knickerless, by describing how she would feel when my large cock (and those were the very words she used) slipped into her juicy cunt. The only regret she had (she told me) was that she was not on the birth control pill, and so I would have to use a condom. How lucky it was that I had just bought some!

As I clambered in to the rear on top of her I was already rolling my fist condom onto my engorged cock, and she must have been so lubricated already that it slipped in effortlessly. A few thrusts later and I was jerking, as she squirmed and flung herself around in a similar frenzy.

When we finally finished, she looked at me, and said that she had enjoyed that fuck more than any she had ever had, and that she could now really look forward to more in the future.

This evening was to set the pattern for weeks to come, and regularly we met, ate, and fucked.

Then, one day, I decided to visit her school.

It was a small school, with a Head Master and four Assistant Teachers, all female. When I called the Headmaster was busy, but asked me to go into the staff-room, as it was morning break, and he would join us shortly. Morag was an infant teacher there, and so she was in the staffroom when I was shown in, and so naturally she was unable to hide the fact that she knew me. However, she simply told the others that she had met me at the Conference. I noticed, too, that she was more soberly dressed whilst in school, and was almost prim and proper. Naturally we all chatted as we drank our morning cuppa, but it soon became apparent to the others that she knew me a little more than just as an acquaintance from the Conference, and so she blushed a little as she made her confession – that she had met me since once or twice and that we had dined in restaurants together.

The other teachers were all older than Morag, though, although two of them were still in their twenties, I would guess. Anyway, we had a very pleasant conversation until the school secretary called to tell me that the Headmaster could see me now.

I did my business with him, and found it a very pleasant call. But that evening, now that Morag had let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, I waited for her outside school with my car so as to save her waiting for the bus. As she came out with the other teachers, though, there were slight knowing looks from them, as if they were now more aware of our relationship. Not fully, though, I hoped!

Anyway, I drove her home, and as she opened the door her mother called out as she was home much earlier than normal, and Morag ushered me inside as she started to explain that I had brought her home from school because I had called there.

“You are going out early, then?” her mother asked me, but Morag replied, saying that it was certainly a possibility as she had extra time now because of my bringing her home.

“Have you taken Derek round the flats yet?” her mother asked Morag.

“We have not had time to do that so far,” came her reply. “But we could do that today, now that we have some spare time,” she added.

“Good idea!” said her mother. “Why not go and change, then, and I’ll chat to Derek while you do so. After all, you will not be able to chat with him whilst you are getting changed, will you?”

As soon as Morag had disappeared, though, her mother turned to me and said, “Right, then. I know you are married and so you have no designs on Morag other than a bit of fun together, and she knows this, too. But promise me one thing – you will not get her into any trouble, will you? I mean, you do take precautions don’t you? And don’t try to deny what you two get up to when you are out so late. Her father and I well know what you must get up to, so just promise that you will be careful. She is too young to have to give up her career to become a mother.”

She was being so sensible and so understanding, and quite a modern parent with no beating about the bush. She had slightly stunned me at first by her forthright approach, but I quickly recovered and replied in the same straightforward way that I did take precautions, and that I would always have her welfare at heart.

“Good,” she said, “because actually she has met a boy more of her own age. We have all known him for some time, but until now there has been nothing between them. She has been out with him once or twice, but she still thinks the world of you. And I may as well be blunt with you. Morag is highly sexed, as you know, and needs her sex-drive fulfilled regularly, but we can see that she and this boy will eventually become an item. She has told me, though, that she is keeping him waiting for any sexual favours until he has asked her to marry him at least, and both her father and I agree that this is a desirable thing to do. But in the meantime I know she needs fulfilment sexually, and her father and I both know that she is receiving that from you, and perhaps not with our disapproval.”

I was astonished by her words, but even more so I was comforted in the knowledge that not only did they know, but that they were not objecting to my behaviour with Morag.

I began to tell her that we were not as close as we could have been, and that although there was a certain love and a bond between us, we both knew that it was nothing more than an affair which would end some time.

“I’m so pleased that you are taking it this way,” she continued. “After all, as parents we want the best for our daughter, and her happiness is all important, which is why we are not objecting to you affair if it is what she wants. But we had better hurry, or she will be back with us again, dressed to go out. And I know that she always dresses as provocatively as possible whenever she goes out with you. She does not dress like that any other time when you are not around, as she is quite content to wear tights as well as knickers most of the time, but after she first met you she went out and bought a couple of mini-dresses and that brief kilt she usually wears for when you go out. She thinks I don’t know that she never wears knickers with that short kilt when she is out with you, but it is only what I used to do for her father in the past. In fact, often when we go out together for a meal I do the same. It was a regular occurrence when Morag was away at college, but we seldom get the opportunity these days except perhaps on the evenings when you take her out. ”

Just then Morag reappeared and her mother immediately changed to subject, mainly about showing me the local beauty spots. The “flats” turned out to be an area close to the sea, often flooded at high tide, but not at this time of the year it seemed. This is where Morag was going to direct me.

“Right, now that you are both together, there is just one more thing I have to ask. Derek, you have never addressed me in any way, and I would hate for you to have to call me ‘Mrs. Something-or-other’, so why not use my real name – Zena. I know Morag would not mind, and neither would John. And Morag – your dad and I are going out tonight, too, and I do not know whether or not we shall be back before you. It is one of our anniversaries, and you know we have a few of those, but this one is the anniversary of the day we got engaged to be married, so it is a slightly special one. We have booked a table at Gino’s for the four of us, but afterwards we are going for a drive just as we used to do, and I know that you and Derek will be driving off somewhere, too. That is, unless you want to use the house whilst we are out, in which case you can bring Derek back here after the meal, and go round the ‘flats’ now. Which do you think is the better plan? ”

Stealing a quizzical look at me, and reading my expression, she turned to her mother and said, “Would you mind if we came back home again afterwards? We could watch a film or something on TV, but in any case it would make a change from sitting and talking in the car, and would probably be a little more comfortable.”

“Right, then, “said her mother. “I’ll tell John that we can drive for a while like he did the night he proposed and I accepted. A little before you time, Morag, I think!” and she laughed at her little joke.

But then she continued, “And there is one big favour I would like to ask, dear, if I may. You may think it just an old woman’s fancy, or that you might think your mother is trying to be mutton dressed as lamb, but as it is this special occasion, and just to revive an old memory, may I borrow one of your short skirts? It would thrill your father once he found out, although I would wear a coat until we actually sat down in the restaurant so that he would not know. On that particular night I did wear a short skirt, although it would appear long compared to what the lengths of skirts are today. And I shall also use the same underwear that I used on that night (and here she shot me a knowing glance) as I have still kept it.”

I knew what she meant – she was going to be knickerless, just as she had been on the night that John had proposed to her!

I returned her glance quickly as Morag, grinning like a Cheshire cat, turned to go for the skirt, and received a very broad wink from Zena.

In the few seconds that Morag was out of the room, though, she managed to say to me that John would be absolutely over the moon with her mode of dress, and even more so when she would be able to demonstrate her lack of underwear!

“And I shall make sure that we give you plenty of warning when we arrive home, Derek. I presume you will be either in the lounge or Morag’s bedroom, so we will slam the front door, and stay in the hall for a short time in case you both have to make yourselves respectable. After all, Morag does not know that John and I know all about your relationship.”

Just them Morag returned with the skirt, and as Zena held it in front of her I could see that it would be more than just immodest – it would be almost indecent! But, then, that was going to be the idea, was it not? And there would scarcely be time for anyone else to notice when John helped her off with her coat once at the table in the restaurant. And if anyone else did notice, what did it matter?

Even Morag grinned at her mother as she tried to imagine how she would look, and once again Zena looked at me with another broad wink, unnoticed by Morag who was still staring amused with the image forming in her mind.

“Anyway, you two,” said Zena, “it is time you were on your way. Meet us outside the restaurant and we can all go in together. That way you will be able to see your father’s face when he takes my coat!” she laughed.

A few minutes later we were driving towards the ‘flats’, and Morag was telling me about the wild life which abounded there.

The whole area seemed deserted, but, as Morag said, it was liable to flooding at certain times of the year, but when it was not so then many couples came out here after dark, and it was too early for them yet.

We stopped, as had been the intention from the beginning, but beyond a quick fondle of her bra-less breasts and a quick fingering of her uncovered pussy, we simply kissed, with both of us visualising what would be happening after the meal when we returned to her house and in the absence of her parents.

Eventually, though, it was time to meet her parents in the car park of the restaurant, and we duly drove there to find her father’s car already there. As soon as we arrived, though, her mother and father got out of their car, Zena saying that we had timed it perfectly, as they had only just arrived themselves.

We all filed into the restaurant, and the Head Waiter, who seemed to recognise John and Zena, and actually addressed them by name, led us to our table. I was pleased, too, when I saw that we were in a corner booth, and realised that all the tables were similarly secluded, so that no-one was overlooked by another table.

Morag turned her back to me as I took off her coat and handed it to the waiter, and watched with great interest as John began to do the same for Zena. At first he did not seem to notice, but as the waiter carried the coats away he seemed to see for the first time how short Zena’s skirt really was! At first he seemed stunned, but quickly regaining his composure he gave a broad grin, stepped back to admire her long shapely legs as she brazenly posed for him, then oblivious to both Morag and myself he took her in his arms and kissed her!

He then seemed to have forgotten Morag’s and my presence momentarily as he broke away and said to her, “My darling! If only you had been wearing that on the night of our engagement!” Then, dropping his voice so as not to be overheard by any other diners he boldly asked, “Dare I presume you are not wearing knickers, like that night so long ago?”

Zena smiled wickedly, as she said enigmatically, “That is for me to know and for you to find out,” and then she nodded towards the two of us, and John suddenly came down to earth, now embarrassed as he realised that we had been able to overhear him.

Quickly, though, he recovered his composure as he laughed, although still a little self-conscious, and said, “Well, we are all adults here, I suppose. And stop looking so disgusted, daughter Morag!” he said, almost doubling with laughter.

Why he said that I think was an attempt at humour to disguise his discomfort, for Morag was looking anything but disgusted. In fact, she was revelling in it!

“We’d better sit down, I think,” said John, pulling out the chair for Zena as I did the same for Morag.

He then looked straight at Zena, and then directly at Morag as he said to her, “I shouldn’t ask, but do I assume that you are similarly dressed for Derek? Don’t answer – I don’t want to know. At least, that way I can still pretend that you are still my virgin daughter. I just hope that Derek appreciates you as much as I do your mother. Now, let’s order and forget what I have just said until after the meal shall we?”

He then called for the waiter and ordered champagne as we all perused the menu. The meal, as I remember, was extremely enjoyable, and conversation was quite normal once again, with John and Zena in turn telling stories about places where they had been before they married and afterwards.

At the end of the meal, though, John came back to earth. He seemed to share Zena’s concern about my behaviour with Morag, and asked me quite bluntly if I was using protection. “I know she may appear innocent to many, especially her colleagues at school,” he told me, “but if she is anything like her mother she is faster than sound. All I ask, though, is that you take care of her, and to make sure that she will make a good wife for someone some day.”

He then reiterated what Zena had previously said. “Now, when we come home we will make enough noise and give you both time to appear decent before we come into the lounge. OK?”

“Thanks!” was my reply. And Morag now spoke. “Dad, I’ve seen you now in a new light. And Mother, too. But don’t worry – Derek loves me too much to ever wish to do anything wrong. And we are always careful. Now, you two go out and really enjoy yourselves, and I can really say to you both – ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’!”

We all laughed, and Morag and I watched as Zena climbed into the passenger seat, one hand decorously trying to hold her skirt in place as she did so. Then suddenly the situation hit her. “What is the matter with me?” she chuckled. “Since when did I become so prudish, especially when the only spectators are fully aware of my state of dress and know full well what we will shortly be up to? And if I accidentally show anything it will not be anything that Morag hasn’t seen before, even on the day she was born. And if Derek happens to see anything I’m sure that Morag can take his mind off it!”

And with that she stopped struggling with the shortness of the skirt and let it ride up as she manoeuvred herself onto the seat.

Naturally my eyes were glued to where the skirt was riding up, and I was finally rewarded by just the merest glimpse of her pussy lips, closely trimmed like Morag’s but not shaven, before she virtuously put the skirt back into place.

Only then did she close the car door, opening the window sufficiently to wish us both a pleasant evening, then turning to John told him to go to their usual place.

Morag then turned to me, and said, “Do you know, I have never thought of them that way before. I suppose one doesn’t think of one’s parents in that way, does one?” She then gave me one of the most passionate kisses we had ever shared, right there in the car park, then told me that she could not wait to get home for once!

And for once I drove her straight home!

The rest of the evening was one long orgy, as we fondled and fucked, kissed and repeatedly made love, until well after midnight we heard the front door close with a bang. Then there were obviously deliberate noises as Zena and John tried to make us aware of their homecoming so as to be able to make sure that we were in a decent state of dress, even though the room must have reeked of sex.

When they finally came in, though, John carrying a bottle of champagne, and Zena with four glasses, it was obvious that they, too, had been just as active as we had been, as John’s face was smudged with Zena’s lipstick, her own lips smudged even more, and from the way she was walking she must have used up an awful amount of energy. As John filled the glasses, Zena almost collapsed onto an easy chair, indifferent to the way her skirt rode up once more as she flopped back. However it did not ride up as high as it had done in the car, and I suspected that the episode then had been more than a little contrived to deliberately expose herself a little.

After that night, though, all our attitudes changed somewhat. Zena and John were now both aware that I was fucking their daughter, and Zena certainly seemed quite unconcerned that I was doing so. In fact, once or twice she told me of remote areas where she and John had regularly used, and how to find them. Once or twice we found that these areas no longer existed, but more often they were ideally situated.

But though I often tried to look I never seemed to be able to see above the knee of whatever dress she was wearing. Until one day, that is.

I had called for Morag as usual one evening, and found that she was not at home. Her boy-friend, of whom I had up until then heard very little, had asked her to his house to meet his parents, and to stay overnight. She had naturally been overjoyed with this, and had gone there still in her teaching attire, so as not to appear too forward when meeting them, and also so as to be correctly dressed for work tomorrow.

Zena was quite apologetic about the whole thing, but explained that this was the boy that Morag was hoping to marry one day, and that she and John wholly approved.

“I had better cancel the table, then, I began,” but Zena interrupted.

“Don’t do that,” she said, “until you hear the rest of what I am about to say. John is working away from home this week, and so I am on my own. Would you mind awfully if I substituted for Morag?”

I was not so sure how to reply, although I know that I wanted to say how delighted I would be. So, instead, I said, “Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, you are Morag’s mother.”

“Look, love,” she replied. “Let’s be honest with each other. You are nearer my age than Morag’s. I am forty-five, and you are around forty. Correct?”

“Correct,” I answered, as she continued, “So where do you think Morag got her sexual drive from? I’ll tell you – she inherited it! And in anticipation of your calling tonight I have actually made preparations. I have been out and bought a new dress, for one thing. It’s even shorter than the ones Morag wears, and has a plunge down to the waist in front, with very little behind, at least down to the waist, so I cannot wear a bra with it. That is just one of the preparations I have already made.”

I could see that she was more or less all set for a night out with me, and after her display when we all went for a meal together I knew that she was probably asking for the same treatment I usually reserved for Morag. So I felt more certain now and was able to reply in a similar vein to hers.

So, I boldly asked, “What other preparations, then?” and received the answer, “That is for me to know and you to find out!” The same answer she had given John when he enquired about her lack of knickers in the restaurant. ‘Ah, well, then be patient’, I said to myself.

“That is,” she said, “apart from telling you that I have booked the same table provisionally as the time we all dined out together. And the waiter there is very discreet, as we know from old. John and I know him quite well, but even so he would never dream of even mentioning our being there to John unless I expressly told him that he could. And I shall never do that. After all, for all I know to the contrary, John, too, may have entertained someone else there and would not wish me to find out. So we trust Francois implicitly.”

“Well, then, if you are so organized, then I must say that I am delighted,” I told her. “You know, I have always had a certain feeling towards you, especially after the time when I discovered that you knew all about my true relationship with Morag. So, dare I ask if you will be wearing that dress?”

“Why else do you think I bought it?” she laughed. “But what you should have asked me was, ‘Do you intend wearing it without knickers?’ Then you should have waited for my answer.”

“Which is?” I asked with a huge grin on my face, knowing full well her entire intentions.

She laughed back at me. “Wait until the waiter takes my coat,” she said, “and I’ll let you know then! Anyway, I want to go and change, so make yourself at home while I go. And let there be no peeking through the bedroom door. At least, not this time, anyway.”

With that she went out, and it was a good fifteen minutes before she reappeared, but this time wearing a full-length silk coat, even though it was quite warm.

“You’ll see why I have to wear this coat when we go out after I have taken it off again,” she said.

She then leaned forward and gave me a most intimate kiss, finally breaking away to say, “And that is just a taste of things to come! Now, let’s get into the car.”

Zena was so formal all the way there, both with her talking and with her demurely way of sitting, but I knew that it was just to tease me.

When we arrived she clambered out of the car before I had chance to open her door, so that again I was not allowed to even steal a glance at her legs as she stood up.

But, once inside, on being approached by Francois, the waiter, she stood facing me as he expertly removed her coat. And now I could see her dress for the first time. Even the waiter hesitated from walking away with her coat as he, too, was captivated by the dress, or rather the lack of it, which was even greater from behind as she had described it, and I was soon to find out.

But from the front – it was breathtaking! The style was obviously an expensive one, but a halter neck developed into two straps which widened across her breasts, then narrowed again to eventually meet her waistband, yet narrow enough not to hide the swellings of both breasts, and covering little more than her nipples.

Below it flared slightly, but was so high above her knees that it barely covered her crutch, reminding me of some I had seen worn by teenagers but which on them had been tighter so as not to ride whilst moving.

Fortunately the booth was hidden from view of others in the restaurant, other than the waiter, who now made a strategic retreat, scarcely able to hide his own surprise on seeing this outfit. But he concealed it well as he smiled at me and then disappeared with her coat.

“Now you can ask that question you have been dying to ask me,” she said softly, so as not to be overheard. “Am I wearing knickers? Go on, ask me.”

Almost croaking as I tried to hide my own excitement, I said, “All right. Are you wearing knickers?”

The answer I expected did not arrive. Instead she simply put her hands to the lacy hem and raised it slightly.

The sight which met my eyes was out of this world.

She had shaved completely smooth there, and what was more she had even emphasised her lips by touching them up with lipstick!

Still in that pose, she seemed quite composed and unembarrassed as I continued to stare intently at her exposure. “I’ve never done this for anyone else before,” she said. “Shaved, I mean. After all you are not the only man to have seen my pussy apart from John. Like Morag, I was no virgin when I first met John, but I have only ever kept the hair trimmed until today.”

Suddenly she dropped the hem again and went to sit down, and I was so amused to see that it was only her serviette which kept her decent once she had done so.

Then she continued her confession by telling me that she had suddenly had the urge to shave herself completely smooth whilst trying the dress on in the shop. “It was quite funny, actually,” she laughed. “I had stripped off in the dressing room, but I was still wearing stockings, suspenders, and knickers. I had taken my bra off to try it on, of course, but then the assistant came into the dressing room to check if I was all right and that the dress was the right size. And there was I showing all my suspenders and stocking tops, and through the mirror I could see the gusset of my French knickers peeping out from under the hem as the dress was so short. I had not realised its absolute brevity until them but that now made me all the more determined to buy it. And she was amused, too, and asked me if there was a special reason for buying the dress, or was it for someone else. So I told her that it was for an extra special date! She said that she envied the special date! She also sent her best wishes to you, and wished me a happy evening! So there!”

By now the waiter had served us with our first course, and we passed the time between courses chatting about this and that, but especially about Morag and her boy-friend.

“He knows nothing about you, and never will do,” she told me. “But I do know that Morag, in spite of her intense sex-drive, has so far kept him at bay, although she has told me that he has tried. She did say, though, that she had let him fondle her breasts through her top when they were in the cinema! Poor lad! But she will make up for it when they are married. And she will be faithful, just like me.”

My eyebrows lifted as she said this last sentence, but she retorted and told me that I was her first date other than John since they had married. Numerous beaux before then, even on the eve of her wedding, she told me, when she did a strip for four of them, and they all had her in turn as they wished her every happiness!

Finally we were on our coffee. As we finished she called the waiter over and asked him to bring her coat, and as he came nearer she whispered to me that she was about to give him a thrill! So, as he approached holding out the coat she stood up to face him, raising her arms in readiness before turning her back to him for him to help her. This caused the hem to ride up slightly, but enough for him to be able to see her state of undress so blatantly presented. He seemed to blush slightly, but quickly regained his composure and became once again Francois, the inscrutable waiter!

Her coat on, I followed Zena to the car. Here, though, throwing all caution to the winds she took off her coat and dropped it onto the back seat before acknowledging my courtesy of holding open the door for her as she climbed in. This time she made a deliberately exaggerated display as she raised each leg in turn to slide it in place, giving me the best view yet as her thighs parted more than was necessary.

I then followed her directions to one of her secluded spots, and one to which I had not been before.

It was actually a farm road into a copse of trees, with a grassy area adjoining the dirt road.

“Have you any kind of ground covering?” she asked me. “John and I usually bring a blanket or similar when we come here.”

“I do have a plastic sheet which is for emergencies on the car, for lying on if I have to get underneath,” I told her.

“Great!” she exclaimed. “I love being fucked in the open air!” (Yes, she actually used that word – the first time I had ever heard her say anything like that.)

In no time I had laid the plastic sheet on the ground, and she had deftly unclasped the halter neck of her dress so that she was completely bare to the waist in front s well as to the rear, and the briefness of her skirt made the remainder of her dress almost negligible.

She flung her arms round my neck as we slowly sank to the ground on that sheet of plastic, and as we reached a prone position she neatly unzipped my trousers for my cock to spring out.

“Oh. Lovely!” she cried. “Now I see why Morag is so much in love with him! He’s gorgeous! Please may I taste him before he goes inside me?” And she had scarcely spoken before her lips were wrapped round my throbbing erection, and I felt her tongue as it nibbled at the tender end.

She continued to rub it, strongly, as well, and this cause me to feel my ejection to be imminent, and as I gasped this out to her she twisted hastily and helped me slide easily into her avid pussy, an action greatly helped by the lack of any hair whatsoever.

“My condoms………,” I started to say, but she hushed me, and said that she was completely safe after an operation some time ago, and that she wanted it bare-back only. “I want to feel your come inside me, fill me up, make me your whore, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

This was enough to send me over the top and I began to spurt, more furiously than I had ever spurted into Morag, but that had always been inside a condom.

Eventually I fell back, feeling spent, and as I slipped out again I watched Zena as her hand went straight for her pussy, as her fingers began to scoop out the come which was dribbling slowly out again.

I then watched in delight as she transferred her fingers to her mouth, where she licked them eagerly, savouring every drop.

Then, being aware of my watching her pleasure, she grinned as she said, “You will stay all night, won’t you? Morag will go straight to school in the morning without coming home, and John is away, so we have the house to ourselves. And my bed!”

I was about to say that I had no sleep attire with me, but then I realised – I would not need any! And to show her my agreement to this invitation I kissed her fully once again, oblivious to the fact that her mouth was still full of my own cum.

“I’m so pleased,” she said as we hugged. “It means that I can take you in my mouth again and taste it properly, instead of second hand like it is now.”

“Only on condition I get to do the same to you!” I countered.

We lay on that sheet of plastic for quite a while, until I felt that I was able to repeat my earlier actions, as I felt that my energy was sufficiently renewed to do so. But eventually we got back into the car, where Zena made herself look decent (if that was the word) by covering up her breasts again in readiness for driving along the well-lit streets to her home.

But once inside the house she stripped off the dress completely, and led the way to her bedroom stark naked. There I lost no time either in stripping off as well, and she then showed me the bathroom, standing by the side of me as I struggled to pee through a half-erect cock which was making it difficult to do so. I did manage in the end, and she clapped her hands and said, “Well done!”, and followed this by sitting on the toilet herself in front of me, spreading her knees to give me a view, and then quietly saying, “Put your finger there, please, while I pee. John used to do that for me before we were married, and I always enjoyed the depravity of it.”

The trouble was that my hand became drenched as a result, but Zena, much to my astonishment, promptly pulled it to her mouth and licked it dry!

Neither of us had much sleep that night. We fucked and dropped off, woke up and fucked again, and again. But in the morning she insisted on making breakfast for us both still completely naked, and insisted on going down on me for one last time, although by now I was completely spent, and could not give her even one drop of cum.

I did continue to see Morag for a few months afterwards, but our meetings became less frequent as she wanted to spend more time with her fiancé. She told me, though, that she was allowing him to fondle her properly now, but would not let him go all the way until they were married. And she always wore knickers when out with him, she told me, even though he liked looking at her pussy after he had taken them off. She never wore any when out with me, though, and most times she wore no bra either. I never told her about my affair with her mother, and I’m sure that her mother did not either. But she did have to miss our dates more frequently as she went to stay with her fiancé and his parents from time to time.

It was often on those occasions, though, that I received a call from Zena on my mobile to tell me that Morag would not be available that evening, but sometimes, too, to tell me that John was also away from home.

And so I was able to continue my affair for some time, albeit with Morag’s mother instead of Morag herself. Unfortunately even this affair had to end, for some time after Morag had married, and was no longer available to me, John received promotion within his firm and was now able to work entirely from home without any periods away. But memories are memories, and though I may have forgotten certain aspects or conversations, it was one of the most enjoyable periods of my life.

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