Loading...Laura thought her world had come to an end when Josh packed his bags and moved out to live with his new secretary, who was nearly thirty years his junior.
When Josh returned to collect his property Laura was in a vindictive mood. She allowed him to collect his clothes, she had resisted the temptation to hack them into ribbons. She even let him have his collection of vinyl records of sixties and seventies Rock, and his prized Bang and Olfsen hi-fi system.
She felt physically sick as she watched as he carried them out to his Jeep. She, the other woman, was sitting at the wheel.
It was when Josh turned to go into the garage that she launched her bombshell. “The garage is locked.”
“Can I have the keys – please?”
“No Josh. What is in the garage is staying. I’m keeping the car.”
“Dammit Laura that’s my car. I built it with my own hands.”
“We built this marriage and you took it apart. You’ve got your records, you’ve got your hi-fi, and you’ve got all your other possessions. You’ve got your whore – see if she’ll make you coffee all night when you’re up to your elbows in grease while you build another car.”
Josh raged and stormed before he eventually left. When the Jeep turned out of sight Laura opened the garage. The little car sat in the center of the garage where it had been built. Laura walked around the car, its aluminum side panels glinted invitingly in the sunlight. The long hood, the fat open wheels, and the rollover bar over the cockpit, which did not even come up to her waist, all combined to give an impression of speed, fun and power. Laura had fallen in love with the car from the minute Josh showed her the pictures in the catalogue.
Building the car had taken all one winter, during which every spare moment of their lives had revolved around the garage. It had been fall when a collection of components had arrived in shipping crates and in the spring a little European sports car had emerged. Her fingers had bled when she had sewn the roof and the seats – the car was as much her creation as his and she was not relinquishing it.
Hiking up her skirt she stepped over the side and slid down in the driver’s seat. She sat for a few moments acclimatizing herself, in ten years she had not driven the car more than five or six times – the driver’s seat had been Josh’s seat by right. She began to put the five-point seat harness on, she recalled why she had always worn pants when she rode in this car. She lifted her butt and tugged up her skirt and pulled up the crotch belt.
When she thumbed the starter button the engine coughed then caught, it began to die away, she recalled it had a manual choke. The side muffler emitted a steady meaty beat that boomed around the garage. She dipped the clutch put the manual shifter into first gear, raised the engine revs. The little car fishtailed, its rear wheels spinning when she let out the clutch.
She scarcely lifted her foot off the gas pedal, when with the tires squealing a tortured protest, like a rocket the car shot out of the driveway onto the road. Laura roared along the Sunday quiet suburban streets, fortunately there were no cops around. By the time she had reached the freeway her anger had dissipated to some extent. As she slowed the car to the speed limit she castigated herself. Laura what the hell has got into you – you’re a fifty-five year old woman and you’re driving like a teenager.
Even though she had slowed down the little car still felt good. The harness straps rubbed her breasts and her nipples had hardened in response. The wind blew through her hair and she felt free. She glanced at the gauge, the gas tank was three-quarters full. She did a quick calculation there was at least six gallons in the ten gallon tank, and at twenty-five to the gallon that was a hundred and fifty miles.
She had to brake hard when a truck pulled out in front of her. The belt between her legs halted her slide forward. She felt herself become wet as the webbing ground into her crotch. This damn car is sexing me up! She thought, angry that an inanimate object could arouse her desire. Yet even as she was thinking, her hand was caressing the smooth phallic knob of the gearshift.
She had been driving for nearly an hour when she decided that it was time to return home. She was going to turn off at the next interchange, but then the black drop-head 911 roared past her. Without a second’s hesitation she floored the gas pedal, the little car leapt forward responsively. As she came up along side the Porsche the driver looked across and sped up. They were running side-by-side, the cars seemed to be evenly matched and neither driver was willing to give way. Laura took a quick glance at the speedometer, one hundred and thirty-five miles an hour; she didn’t think Josh had ever driven the car this fast.
As soon as night follows day, and with the certainty that water flows downhill, so speeding on the freeway for prolonged periods has a certain consequence. Sirens wailed, lights flashed, the driver of the Porsche and Laura pulled over and stopped.
Once the tickets had been issued the cops clustered around the car. The hood was raised and they all gazed with awe at the little Pinto based Ford Cosworth motor.
“Mam did ya say this little mill is only two liters?” Asked a gum-chewing cop for the third time.
When eventually they were allowed to go on their way, it was the driver of the Porsche who suggested they go for a coffee, he had nodded his head in the direction of a roadside MacDonald’s.
When they were seated at a table the young Porsche driver smiled at her, “That’s sure some machine and cost a heck of a lot less than my Porsche. Did you really build it yourself?”
“Josh did. I supplied coffee, sympathy and stitched the upholstery.”
“Josh?”
“My husband, ex-husband.” She frowned what was Josh? sketched a gesture. “I’m not sure of how to describe his status or mine?”
“Not sure?”
“Well he’s moved out – traded me in for a younger model. I suppose a divorce will be the next step. I really haven’t thought about what comes next.”
A typical male reaction Laura thought when the young man whistled.
Although his assumption angered her she smiled when he said. “Wow and he left the car too.”
“No I kept the car. It’s my self respect I know without the car he’ll hurt and I want him to hurt as much as I hurt.”
“Maybe I can help.” As if by magic he flipped a card onto the table ‘Simon Lampeter Attorney at Law’ it had printed on it along with an address and phone number.
“Mister Lampeter we have an attorney.” Laura said abruptly, she did not trust lawyers. Was this a new twist on ambulance chasing?
“That’s good because it is unethical to be involved with a client. In that case will you come with me next weekend to the Sportscar races?”
“I’m not sure. I mean I hardly know you.”
“You know me well enough to get arrested with me. Read the ticket, as an attorney I’ll read it for you, and without billing you but don’t tell my partners. It says that we are jointly charged with racing on the highway. And if you bring your car you’ll enjoy it if we stop an extra day they have a “Run-what-you-brung” you can take your car on the track.”
Josh will be totally pissed, she thought. “Fine next weekend it’s a date.”
On Monday morning Laura picked up Simon’s card and went to the phone to call him and cancel. The service man arrived to give the boiler its annual service.
On Tuesday morning, she intended to call Simon but her neighbor Marjory called for coffee and to commiserate with her.
On Wednesday, she called. “Sorry Mr. Lampeter’s in a conference may I take a message,” the receptionist said. Her voice sounded like Josh’s secretary’s voice the woman she had dubbed, ‘the whore’. Laura dropped the phone.
On Thursday morning she did not call.
On Thursday evening she rang Amy, her daughter, to tell her that she would be away that weekend. Amy was preoccupied, she had only just got home with the twins from a Little League game, “That’s nice mom. Have a nice time and call me when you get back.” Laura put the phone down relieved that her daughter had not asked where she was going or who she was going with.
On Friday still wondering what she was doing and why she crammed some clothes into a hold-all, she put the bag on the passenger seat and drove off to meet Simon. ‘A hundred miles drive, to watch motor racing with a man I’ve only met once, I must be crazy!’
As she was driving Simon called on his mobile to check that she was on route and to give her the details of the motel where they would be staying. She nearly turned around to drive back home, when she reflected that staying in a motel with a man she hardly knew sounded distinctly sleazy. However the idea of a weekend at the Sportscar Races and an opportunity to run her own car on the track sounded too tempting.
The Motel parking lot was like an informal sports car fest, there were some small European kit cars like her own, many other British and European sports cars; including two blood red Ferrari Testerosas, and a number of the ubiquitous Porsche 911’s both drop-head and fixed-head; of course there were also a number of Thunderbirds, Corvettes and Dodge Vipers.
She only located Simon by calling him on his mobile. She was reassured about his intentions when he showed her the two-bedroom suite with a shared bathroom. Once she had freshened up they went in her car to the track.
It was practice day. Laura watched enthralled as cars, some very like her own, howled around the road track. Tires smoked when they braked hard at the end of a straightaway before taking a sharp left-hand bend that was the first of a series of bends that snaked down the hill. A Viper overcooked the bend and spun onto the bumpy grass, leaving a trail of fiberglass body parts in its wake.
“Wow,” said Laura as the dust settled.
“He’ll soon get that fixed.”
Laura had not really believed Simon’s statement but sure enough before the session ended the same Viper howled past tires and engine screaming as it slewed into the bend. “He’s still got a handling problem, the rear end seems to be going light when he brakes.” Simon said knowledgably.
Laura enjoyed watching the practice, she had not realized how dusty she had got until they returned to the motel. She stood in the shower stall the warm water running softly over her body, swirling away in a brown eddy. Then she turned the showerhead to its power jet setting. No sooner had the jet struck her breast than she felt the tingle, the tingle of anticipation that she had not felt since Josh had left.
When she played the jet between her legs the sensation became intense. She had to satisfy her desire and there was no one to do it. She thrust one of her fingers into the yawning chasm that her pussy had become. Once her finger had entered there was no holding back, one finger was doing nothing, she thrust in three and began to finger-fuck herself.
Standing with her legs spread, bent at the knees she pressed her back against the cool tiles of the shower stall. As she fingered herself she kept getting near to an orgasm, then something would happen and frustratingly the feeling would fleet footed disappear. With her free hand she grasped her nipple viciously twisting it, as if trying to wring from her body the orgasm that eluded her.
It was when her palm pressed against her mons veneris that the moment of euphoria eventually arrived in a series of wet abdominal muscle contractions. Wanting to capture the ecstatic moment she closed her eyes, the face that appeared was Simon’s not Josh’s! The image was so lifelike that for a moment she thought he was really there with her, then she opened her eyes – she was alone in the shower stall and she knew that she had locked the door, although she wished that she had not.
She wished now that Simon had not been such a gentleman. Surely he wanted her why else had he asked her to come with him, unless he was gay. She played with that thought, if he were gay it would be the ultimate cruel joke. If only he had not taken a two room suite. At this moment she wished that he would metamorphose into a monster, a Werewolf and kick the door down to take her right there in the shower stall. She pressed her body harder against the tiles as she imagined the scenario.
By the time she had dried herself she had evolved a strategy that involved a jammed zipper. As she went out of the bathroom into the small lobby that divided the two rooms she abandoned the strategy. Instead of opening the door of her room, she knocked on Simon’s door.
Even as he opened the door, she could not believe that she was saying the words she was saying. “Simon let’s cut the crap – do you want me? Want me sexually I mean.” She let her bathrobe fall to the floor. “Do you like what you see?” She pushed him back into the room.
Simon was flabbergasted, he had planned to wine and dine her before seducing her and now she had transformed into a sexual predator. “Yes,” he stammered. “Yes I like what I see.”
“Well then do something. Please Simon don’t make me beg.”
What happened next could not be described, by any stretch of the imagination as lovemaking – it was the unleashing of two people’s raw animal lust. As Simon began to undo his belt Laura dropped to her knees. She pushed his hands aside scrabbled at the buckle. She tore down the zipper.
When she pulled down his pants and shorts the object of her desire confronted her. His cock was already rampant, the network of pumped up veins stood proud from its smooth surface, the exposed head purple and proud. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. She bobbed her head – he tasted sweet and salty, in her greed she had not even noticed the bead of pre-cum.
He groaned as she slid her slick lips over the head of his cock. It was too soon but already he could feel his balls tightening, drawing into him. He used her hair to pull her off his cock. “No not this way.” He lifted her to her feet whilst kicking off his pants and shorts.
“Pleease Simon plee …” Her pleas were terminated when Simon threw her onto the bed – she was lying crosswise her feet and legs over the edge. Simon lifted her feet, her calves rested on his shoulder. She was wide open to him. She came as his cock-head parted her swollen labia, and came for a second time as he drove the full length deep into her.
After these first two orgasms Laura could no longer identify when she was coming and when she was not. As he pounded his cock into her she was just a well-pool of wet ecstasy. This was an animal fuck, there was no technique, no practice of the arts of love, merely the act of two people relieving their lust. Laura’s hands were under Simon’s shirt clawing at his back, her long nails raked long grooves along his skin, spurring him to move faster and drive into her harder. No man, not even some porn star stud could keep up the furious motion and not come. Simon was no porn star and soon, too soon his body stiffened. He drove his cock into her as the sperm boiled from his pulsating balls.
She lowered her legs, wrapping them around his waist she held him inside her. Although she could feel his cock softening she still wanted, needed him to be in her, she did not want the act to end.
She felt a sense of loss, of emptiness when with a soft plop his shriveled cock slipped from her. This sense of loss was softened when he scooped her up in his arms lay her lengthwise on the bed and lay beside her, holding her in his arms.
As they lay together he began to make love to her. He snuggled up to her smelling her freshly washed hair and the scent of her shampoo. Gently he kissed her ear, his teeth nipping the lobe, she wriggled her hips in anticipation when his tongue explored her ear. Then the kisses fell on her face a gentle shower of butterfly kisses rained upon her eyelids, his lips brushed her cheeks, cooled her forehead. At last he allowed their lips to meet in a long lingering kiss, his tongue forced apart her teeth, upon entering her mouth it jousted with her tongue in a ritualistic combat.
They were breathless when their lips parted, he transferred his attentions to her neck. As his lips touched the sensitive areas of her throat she could feel herself getting wet again. I hope he finishes me off, she thought.
“This was how I intended to make love to you.” He murmured as he moved his attention to her breasts.
“I was an animal – a she wolf in season – I enjoyed the rutting – at that moment I did not want love. Just to be fucked.” she replied. This cannot be! She was coming again and he had not even touched her there! She had always enjoyed having her breasts played with. Even at High School she had allowed her dates to fondle her breasts. Although until she had married she had never allowed anyone to go any further – Josh had been her first lover and until today her only lover.
Surely not! She was not sure but she was almost certain she could feel Simon’s flaccid cock twitching against her thigh. She reached down and her fingers encircled his cock. She gave a quiet chuckle.
“What’s the joke?” Simon asked. He thought that her chuckle had sounded amazingly sexy, it tinkled musically, sounding like water swirling over pebbles in a stream.
“It’s been so long, I’d forgotten how fast a young man’s cock recuperates. After a session like ours Josh would have taken days to revive. I was just thinking that maybe just maybe I ought to feel just a teensy, teensy little bit, sorry for the whore.”
Simon lifted his head from her breast. “The whore?”
“My name for the woman, girl really Josh has traded me in for. Simon just do what you were doing, don’t talk! Keep sucking my tits.” Who’s the slut no? she thought. Then she stopped thinking and surrendered herself to bliss as Simon nipped her nipples in the same fashion as he had nipped her earlobe. It was a sharp nip, hard, uncomfortable, but inducing pleasure: any harder and it would have been plain pain, any gentler and it would have been meaningless. Simon was fast discovering the secrets of her body.
She bent her legs, pushed her feet down on the mattress lifting her ass up as she moved her hips. One of his hands clamped on her Mons, the palm pushing the sensitive pad against the high arch of her pubic bone; his fingers curled around it, spreading the engorged lips entering her slit where one pressured against the hard bud of her clitoris. Now by using pressure he was controlling her body, increase the pressure. He held her hips still and she was trapped on the brink of coming but unable to come.
Just when she thought that she could take no more, he eased his grip allowing her to move her body. Her hips gyrated sensuously as she ground out yet another orgasm, this on heightened by the wait and his ever-present hand. There was a delicious sense of fear, fear that he would once again stop her before she had completed. Then there was the activity of one of his fingers that tapped gently along her clitoris. She came convulsively, her abdominal muscles tensing, as she drew her knees up to her breasts.
“Oh Simon you are so good for me.” She exclaimed then the moment of rapture passed and a melancholic thought entered her mind. “How old are you Simon?”
The suddenness of the question caught Simon unawares. “Twenty-eight going on twenty-nine.” He responded.
“Do you realize I am twice your age?”
“No I didn’t. Does it matter?”
“To me no. To you I expect that when the novelty wears off it will.”
“Laura I promise you that you’re not a novelty – we are here together because I am genuinely attracted to you.”
“Sooner or later you will want a young woman, one of your own age. Don’t worry I am not walking out I want all that I can get and I intend to enjoy every minute that I have with you.”
“Laura I promise you that I am genuinely attracted …”
“Shhhhhhh say nothing and I’ll say no more. Lie back, I want to try something.”
Simon did as she had asked. She turned and raised herself onto all fours. Turning, she slowly slid her body down his. The touch of her nipples trailing along his body sent erotic tingles to his hardening cock. The feel of his body against her nipples increased the level of her licentious feelings. As she slithered slowly down she kept her eyes fixed upon his cock – the object of her desire.
His cock hardened the moment her warm moist mouth enveloped its head. He felt her tongue swirling over the glans, the tip exploring the ridge that marked the separation between the exposed head and the shaft. She drew back curled her tongue so that the tip was pointed and began to explore the outline of the blind oval eye. It felt as if she was entering him through the tip.
Simon wriggled and squirmed until he got his head between Laura’s legs. For the first time Simon could really see her pussy. Simon had seen many women’s pussies since his first sexual fumblings after a High School Prom ten years before, but Laura was the first mature woman he had ever bedded.
The pussies he had looked at before had never born children and belonged to younger slimmer women, women who were little more than teenagers. Their labia had been thin and mean, whereas Laura’s were fleshy and fully developed, hanging down from her like curtains. Even their outer side glistened with hers and his juices. She responded to his touch when with two fingers he gently parted the heavy lips, exposing to his gaze her coral pink inner lips. He looked at the pulsating dark hole where only a short while ago he had buried his cock. He was intrigued by the thick untrimmed growth of her dark pubic hair; hair that he already knew grew nearly to her navel.
Laura was uncertain as to exactly what Simon was doing when he grasped her hips and pulled her down to him. She had heard of the term Sixty-Nine, she even knew in broad terms what it meant; but she had never done it before. By the time she had put a name to what was happening, Simons tongue was lashing her clitoris, flicking it one way then the other.
By way of repayment Laura bobbed her head faster than before. On each downward bob she tried to cram a little more of his iron hard cockstem into her mouth. The blunt head of his cock was blindly butting against the back off her mouth.
She took a series of deep breaths like a diver she held the last one. Just a little more, she thought, bobbing her head down with even more force. Once again the head of his cock hit the back of her mouth, then it slithered into her throat. Fighting the urge to gag she swallowed and suddenly could feel that he was lodged in her throat she gently moved. Simon gave a muffled groan of ecstatic bliss, never before had a woman deep-throated him. Her lungs were bursting when she lifted her head, taking another breath she dove down once again driving his cock down her throat.
All the time she was deep-throating him Simon’s tongue was exciting her clitoris and labia. Lashing her hot inflamed organs with his active slick tongue. Then without warning he would change the tempo and delicately caress those same parts, probing and exploring every delicate fold and crease of the Lotus flower that was her sex.
With a triumphant cry of rapture jizm erupted from his rampant cock. As his cock pumped great hot globules down into her throat she felt as if she was drowning. She swallowed desperately, the more she swallowed the more that seemed to fill her gullet. This event that was in reality over in a matter of seconds, seemed to Laura to have been lasting for an eternity.
Although he pulled his softening cock out of his mouth, he did not cease lavishing attention upon her pussy. Energetically his mouth and tongue sucked and licked at her spread pussy, cajoling orgasm after orgasm from her. Laura had never in her life experienced so many nor such intense orgasms. She doubted whether even when Josh was young he had ever been capable of such a prolonged bout of almost non-stop lovemaking. What was happening to her? She thought as yet another wet geyser of joy erupted somewhere deep within her womb. She experienced momentary panic attacks – was this natural – would she ever stop? Eventually she said, “Please Simon, no more I don’t think I can take any more.”
In the morning when she awoke she was still in his arms, barely moved from the position in which they had been lying cuddling one another. She realized that they had drifted off to sleep holding one another.
Her first movements awoke Simon. Seeing his eyes open she kissed him before he could speak. Pressing her body against his she felt his erect cock.
“Oh my god! You’re like a machine a fuck machine.”
“Well I guess the machine had better perform.” He laughed pushing her onto her back. “My! Oh my I think there are two fuck machines in this bed.” His hand was exploring her already slick slit. Of its own accord her vagina yawned open. “This’ll be a real quicky – I want to get to the track.” He warned, his cock was slipping into her.
“Don’t tell me. Just fuck me.”
Simon needed no urging. His hands moved beneath her buttocks lifting them from the bed. He thrust his hips embedding the full length of his cock in her. She drew up her knees, wrapping her legs around his waist. She pulled herself tighter to him. Simon was true to his word, although energetic it was truly a quick fuck, but not so quick that Laura missed out on her orgasm. When they had both come they parted.
A quicky? Josh would have defined that as a full-blown orgy!
They spent the day at the track watching cars taking part in the timed practice for the big race. Then they watched a short support race. Laura watched this race intently, the cars racing were small open wheel cars of the same type as her own.
At two in the afternoon the cars taking part in the Twenty-Four Hour race lined up on the grid. Their engines roaring they made a slow circuit of the track behind the Starter’s Car. Coming to a halt they took up their positions on the grid for the standing start. Even on the first Lap with twenty-fours of racing in front of them cars were jostling to overtake, pushing to get in front. On the second lap in front of where they stood, a Corvette nudged a Porsche that pirouetted along the track and off onto the grass. The Porsche’s wheels spun, then with pieces of bodywork trailing behind it the car rejoined the track.
“C’mon,” Simon pulled her with him like an excited schoolboy. He led the way through the spectator areas until they reached a point where they had a good view of the pits. Here they could see the mechanics making hasty repairs to the Porsche, within minutes the little car’s motor was fired up and with tires smoking it headed back onto the racetrack.
“Now if my car was damaged like that the guys in the body-shop would take at least a week.” Simon commented. Laura did not point out that he would not accept a car that had been repaired with Gaffer Tape. However she was impressed by the speed that the mechanics turned the cars around.
When darkness fell the cars turned on their lights, all that could be seen were the blazing pools of the cars driving lights approaching and then the red tail lights once the car passed. Only the big screens told the spectators who was in the lead, as about fifteen laps separated the leading car from the last car still running.
Laura’s fingers ran with grease when they ate burgers bought from one of the trackside fast food concessions. They made their way over to the carnival, and got into a car on the Ferris Wheel. As it climbed up into the sky, Laura saw the overall layout of the track traced out by the twinkling lights of the cars.
It was not until Laura yawned that Simon said they should return to the motel. “You should have said that you were tired, I’d forgotten where we were staying.” He said as they entered their suite.
“Forgotten?” Perplexed by his comment she raised an eyebrow.
“This is the first year I’ve not camped up by the track.”
“Why didn’t you camp this year?”
“Would you have accepted if I’d asked you to camp out with me?”
“Well no, I suppose not.”
“When you said yes I had to make a reservation.” He laughed ruefully, she liked seeing him laughing. When he laughed his eyes had crinkles around them. “It occupied an awful lot of my secretary’s time last week. But it is proving to be well worthwhile.”
“What? A weekend with an old lady like me?”
“A weekend with a very sexy lady. Tell me if its not an ungentlemanly question, where the hell did you learn to do a deep-throat?”
Adopting her best Southern Belle accent Laura said. “Why Sir that is ungentlemanly, but I’ll answer. I have to confess that I learnt last night Sir.” She reverted to her own voice. “I have never done it before, never felt the inclination to do it, and never even tried. But last night I wanted to be special. To give you something no-one else has ever had.”
“So it was a first time for both of us.”
“I didn’t realize but I am glad. Never ever has anyone made love to me like you did last night.”
As they got into bed Laura said. “Simon I feel guilty.”
He was immediately attentive. “Guilty why? Are you on about our age difference again? I told you it does not …” He stopped seeing her smile.
“No not that, I mean that I feel guilty about the money you have spent on a two bedroom suite when one bed has remained unused.”
“To have you in my bed it’s money well spent.”
She reverted back to her Southern Belle accent. “Why Sir I do declare that is quite the most chivalrous thing that a gentleman could say.”
He responded in kind. “Mam to share a bed with you is an honor. Hell that didn’t come out the way I meant it to.” He blushed. “I can see that I am going to have to watch Gone with the Wind a few times so I can get the words right.”
“I’ve got the video tape.”
“Well that’s one way to fill our evenings together.”
She kissed him. “I kinda hope against hope that there’s a lot of them. Maybe they’ll get to be boring after a while.” She was surprised, when he returned her kiss she could feel that his cock was already hard. “My you are eager,” she said as she circled her fingers around his hot cock. Last night would have had Josh protesting he was worn out for a month. In fact she thought Josh had never lasted half the time Simon had done last night and now he was ready again. After spending fourteen hours out someplace, Josh would have fallen comatose in his chair, whereas this man was obviously ready for another night of passion.
What really shocked her was her own hunger for him. The Whore’s welcome to Josh she thought as she slid her lips over Simon’s rampant cockhead. She was once again exploring the texture of Simon’s cock when she thought of her daughter. If Amy walked in through that door and saw me with a man’s cock in my mouth using my hands to play with his balls, what would she say? Laura decided that her daughter would probably call her a slut and disown her, she also decided that she really did not care.
She felt the stirring of his balls, then his hands clamped against the sides of her head. She expected him to thrust his hips toward her driving his cock into her throat. He eased her back away from him. “No not yet,” he said pushing her onto her back.
With his hands against her calves he lifted her legs up high, spreading them apart then pushed them down until her feet touched the pillow by her head. He knelt between her legs. “This is the best view in the world, if I could paint I’d paint it, someday I would like to photograph what I see – to share this view with you.”
Laura laughed. “Why would I want to see myself? – I know my own body.”
“Do you? Think carefully. Have you ever spread yourself like this and seen yourself as I see you?”
“Of course not how could I unless I did it with a mirror or a camera?”
It was his turn to laugh. “Precisely and that my dear is why I want to photograph you.”
“Have you got your camera?” She had uttered the words, before she considered what she had said.
“I’ll get it.” He replied as he lowered her legs.
Amy will kill me! – God she’s my daughter not my mother really its nothing to do with her.
His camera was slung around his neck, when he lifted her legs again. “Relax.” He said as he spread her legs.
“Promise me you will never show them to anyone else.”
“I promise.”
“What about when you get them developed? Someone will see them.”
“It’s a digital camera. Here,” he said holding the camera out to her. “Look at the screen on the back and you will see the picture I have taken.”
She looked, it did not feel like she was looking at an image of herself, it was too disembodied. He had framed an area that extended from just in front of her labia, a fringe of tightly curled pubic hair to just behind her anus. The way her legs had been forced over and open had flattened the tops of her thighs.
What immediately caught her eye were the beads of moisture. Diamond like and glinting. Almost as if her entire sex had been decorated with sparkling eye make-up. Her outer lips were raised, puffed up, darkened by the blood that had pumped into them. Between them peeked the coral pink inner lips that looked like a pair of delicate seashells. Her clitoris stood alone in the slit, it appeared far smaller than she had imagined it to be. Could such an important organ the bringer of such great joy really be so small?
“What do you think?” He asked.
“I don’t know Simon. It is strange. I know it is me, yet it doesn’t feel as if it is me. There is a sense of detachment, unreality about this picture. Can you get me a print?”
“I’ll make you a print.”
“Gee. You do your own processing?”
Simon laughed. “No its digital. Its an electronic image. I connect the camera to the computer and print the pictures.”
“I don’t understand half of that – but do me a picture. Say, can I photograph your cock?”
They spent a while taking photographs of one another from different angles. “Simon I’ve an idea. I want you to come over my tits and I’ll press the button just as you come, capturing the sperm whilst it is in mid air.” Had she really suggested that? She could hardly believe the depths her mind could sink to. What had this man unleashed when he made love to her, she was talking like a two-bit whore, without a trace of shame.
He straddled her stomach. The back of his hand brushed against her breasts as he jacked himself off. She was trying to stay concentrated on her self-assigned task as a photographer. The motion of his hand generated shards of electricity that ripped through her body terminating with a thump in her abdomen. Between his muscular thighs she writhed in torments of ecstasy. Each vicious jolt to her abdomen transformed itself into a wet jet of joy.
She had almost forgotten the photograph when he exclaimed, “Ready! I’m coming.”
She tried to frame his cock and press the button as she felt the first of his hot sticky come land on her erect nipple, then her tits seemed to be overwhelmed by his gooey semen as it flowed lethargically over them. Somewhere, sometime she had read that the average male ejaculation measured a soup spoon – she was certain his ejaculation would have filled a coffee cup. He massaged the fluid into her skin causing ripples of ecstatic tremors to course through her body, soon too soon for her the fluid had cooled, drying into hard flakes.
When he had finished his cock was limp and sad looking. Laura grasped his buttocks and pulled him towards her. She crammed his cock into her mouth as if she intended to devour him. Sucking furiously she literally willed him back into hardness. “Now fuck me. Fuck me hard.” She demanded.
He moved so that he was kneeling between her legs. Again he lifted them, this time none too gently. His roughness thrilled her. He plunged his cock into her open pussy and began to pound into her like a pile driver, on each inward stroke his hard pubic bone collided with her aroused clitoris.
“Oh yes honey give it to me … give it to me hard … I want, need to feel you … don’t worry about hurting me just do me.” She raved at him, her nails ripping grooves in his back as she spurred him on.
Eventually his body stiffened he pulled nearly out of her then slammed in as deep as he could as the sperm spurted from his cock in hot sticky globules. “I am bushed.” He said as he lowered her legs.
She kissed him, when their lips parted she whispered. “Simon you are fantastic.”
It was soon after that they fell asleep.
Simon was asleep on his back, snoring gently when Laura awoke. She looked at him, he looked so young, so angelic. She felt a twinge of guilt, was she as the older woman taking advantage of his youth? Then she recalled it was he who had shown her how to be adventurous in her lovemaking, not the other way around.
She lifted the sheet. His cock was hard, not iron bar hard, but definitely hard. Taking care not to disturb him she turned around and squirmed down the bed. Not touching him was difficult but eventually she had his cock in her mouth, ever so gently she moved her tongue polishing his exposed glans. His cock hardened rapidly and still he did not stir.
It was only when he was coming that he moved. She had to hold him tightly to prevent him bucking away from her as he squirted his juice down her throat. By the time he had finished he was fully awake. When he had finished coming she moved up to lie next to him. “Did you enjoy that?”
“Enjoy it! You have no idea! You have just made one of my favorite fantasies come true.
“Only one?”
“Well you had already made my deep-throat one a reality.”
“ Oh my poor darling. Soon I’ll spoil all your dreams.”
“I’m not complaining, but I will be if I don’t get to see the end of the race.” He said as he jumped out of bed.
They both dressed quickly and returned to the racetrack. The cars were still thundering around, the pace maintained by the lead cars was unrelenting. The first thing that Laura noticed was how many cars bore the scars of minor accidents. When she commented on this, Simon said that during the hours of darkness minor collisions and spin-offs were almost inevitable. He also pointed out that only about half of the cars that had started the race were still on the track.
Between ten and eleven the cars began to make their final pit-stops. In most cases the drivers were changed and the cars number one driver, who had been resting, got in to drive the final stint. Despite the twenty plus hours that the cars had been running almost non-stop, the lap times began to tumble as the top drivers tried to seize the lead.
Laura found that her ears were rapidly becoming attuned to the racetrack. Now as a car approached she could discern the agricultural rumble of the big V8’s, the smooth roar of the V12 Ferraris, the higher pitched howl of the Porsche flat six’s. The car that stood out was a lone Mazda RX that by comparison seemed to whisper as it passed.
“Why’s that little car so quiet?” She asked Simon as the Mazda ghosted past where they stood.
“That’s a rotary car, the engine has no piston just a turning rotor.”
She did not understand what he was saying, she simply accepted his explanation.
Just after two o’clock the leading car crossed the finishing line, the chequered flag waved and the race was over. Dusty, dirty, the cars and their tired drivers completed the lap and pulled into the pits. An awesome hush fell over the track as the last of the cars turned off its motor.
It was only now that the race was over, that Laura fully appreciated how many people had been at the race. This time when they left the track they were a part of a massive seething throng. Throughout the short drive back to the motel they were in a fender-to-fender traffic jam. What had been a fifteen-minute drive took over an hour.
It was gone five when they entered their suite. They took a shower together, and got dressed. Laura resisted the urge to seize Simon and drag him into the bed. This evening they were going out for a proper meal, rather than the fast-food snacks that they had subsisted on all weekend. Laura thought, This waiting will sharpen my appetite.
The atmosphere in the restaurant was dominated by the sports car races. A number of the tables were occupied by large groups made up of the drivers, pit-crew, and the long legged, well endowed girls, who it appeared to Laura were as essential to a motor racing team as the driver himself. It was impossible not to overhear the conversation from a neighboring table that seemed to be getting increasingly acrimonious between two of the drivers. One driver accusing the other of both driving too slowly and being unable control the car. No one else seemed to agree and after a while a pretty girl persuaded the aggrieved driver to leave with her.
Simon leaned across the table. “I bet that the slow driver is either one of the sponsors or brings in a lot of personal sponsorship money.”
“Well at last I know the function of the stunningly beautiful women.”
Simon raised his glass. “Here’s to my stunningly beautiful woman.”
The meal began with a clear Mock Turtle soup. This was followed by a seafood dish. On the table where the argument had taken place they were eating oysters. Laura was relieved when Simon ordered the grilled fish dish. She had always shuddered when she’d seen people swallowing whole oysters, it seemed to be very primitive to her. The main course was filet de boeuf en croute. Although she felt full and bloated, Laura was unable to resist the elaborate chocolate confection that was the sweet. As the first mouthful melted in her mouth Laura thought I am going to have to diet for a month to loose the pounds I’ve put on tonight. Throughout the meal they both drank champagne. It was not until they rose to leave that Laura realized how much she had drunk.
She still felt lightheaded when they returned to their suite. Without any preamble she began to take off her clothes. “Simon I’ve been burning up for you all through that meal. Every-time I looked at you all that I could think of was of us making love. When you raised your food or your glass to your lips, damn zipper … that’s better. Where was I? I was talking like a slut, that’s your fault – your lovemaking has liberated the slut within me. Do you realize every time you put something into your mouth all that I could think of was you doing oral sex to me?” She said as her dress fell to the floor, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties wriggled her hips and the lacy briefs joined the dress. “Not a bad looking body for an old woman.” She preened as she discarded her brassiere. She was naked apart from her garter belt and stockings. “Now take me any way you want me.”
She could see the bulge in his pants his cock had rocketed to attention. She was sure that he wanted her, but he said. “No Laura not yet.” He turned on the radio fiddled with the tuner until he found a station playing jazz. “Dance for me.”
“Simon just shuck off your pants and screw me. Undressing can come later. Take me and take me hard.”
He sat down on the bed. His voice was stern almost magisterial. “Laura I said dance for me.”
To humor him she swayed her hips.
“Dance properly. I want to see you dance.”
She felt self conscious, as if she was a hidden camera she could see the scene. A young handsome man who was fully clothed reclining on the bed; and a middle aged woman, whose only clothing was a garter belt and stockings standing swaying in the middle of the room. She began moving her body with the music, her hips and shoulders gyrating. Then as if of their own accord her feet began to move. Now the camera in her mind captured the lewdness of the situation. This is something like a scene from some French Art House film She was getting wet between her legs.
“Stop!” Simon said, when she clamped her thighs together. He jumped up grasped her shoulders, there was no gentleness in his touch. He used his feet to push her feet apart. “Stand still, I don’t want you to come, not yet.”
It was as he intended. His treatment of her successfully froze her orgasm. He released his hold. His voice was gentle the way it usually was. “Dance again Laura, please dance for me.”
Tentatively she began to move to the music. She saw the dissatisfaction in his face, she wanted to please him she began to dance properly. Still cautious at first, then she abandoned herself to the music, dancing alone. She had switched the camera off she was oblivious to Simon’s presence.
Simon watched as she swayed, shimmied, shook and whirled to the primeval rhythms. The beat driving deep into her body, the wetness returned this time, she was blatant about her orgasm her hand clutched at her pubic mound, her fingers insinuated into her slit, probing for her clit. She did not stop moving as she masturbated.
Simon lay on the bed his cock throbbing with desire as he drank the scene in. He knew that his lying on the bed not touching her, had tormented her, but now it was a torment to himself. He undid his shirt.
“Simon please honey take me. I want you. Please do it fuck me hard fuck me until I hurt. Have me any way you want to but have me now.” Her words galvanized Simon into action, he leapt up from the bed.
Simon fumbled with his belt buckle – in front of him was his fantasy woman. From when he had first been aware of women as sexual beings he had fantasized about women dressed in only a garter belt and stockings. The only flaw, if there was a flaw, was that Laura had kicked off her shoes, but the shoes were not that important in his fantasies.
He kicked his pants off. He nearly crushed the breath out of Laura when, stepping clear of his pants and shorts, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. She lay back in his arms unresisting. The bed groaned in protest when he flung her onto it.
He pushed between her legs, she raised them and wrapped them around his waist. He had no need to arouse her, his cock glided into her moist sex. His hands clasped her buttocks pulling her towards him as with powerful thrusts of his hips he plunged into her.
There was no way that the sex act could be described as lovemaking. Both Laura and Simon were living out their own fantasies sating their own desires. If anyone had witnessed the act they would have thought they were seeing a rape. His body pounded into her as if his cock was boring its own tunnel. She kicked at his back with her heels. Scrabbled at his body with her hands. There was a ripping sound when her nails slashed through his shirt. He bit her breast when she catlike dug her fingers into his back. Blood flowed from the deep lines she scored into his flesh.
She screamed when his bite drew blood. His pubic bone continued to slam remorselessly into her mons veneris. She was nearly coming when a moment of insecurity hit her. “Don’t stop Simon … Don’t stop now … Just keep going please don’t come, not yet, not until I’m ready.” She arched her back, whether she willed it or not her hips moved in a circular motion, she was holding him so tight that he was unable to move independently of her and at the same time she was willing him to move.
He reached down his body, slid his hands between his waist and her legs. He forced her legs to part, lifting them high he slipped his arms around them, grasped her shoulders and returned to pounding his hard cock into her moist sex. She was so wet that there was now an audible squelching sound.
She did not stop clawing at his bloodied back. His tattered shirt was saturated in his blood. “Simon harder fucking! I need fucking harder. Hurt me! Fuck me so hard that you make me hurt! I want to feel you!” She screamed as her talons raked him once again. “No!” She cried as he pulled his cock out of her.
“Oh no … Oh yes … Oh Simon don’t stop now, harder hurt me.” She felt as if his cock was a hot knife cutting through to her vitals ripping apart, as he drove it into her asshole. He had dreamed about butt-fucking a woman, but up until this moment had never done it.
It was only when she had finished coming that she became aware of his hot sperm sloshing around in her bowel. Once or twice in the past she and Josh had tried butt-fucking, she remembered it only as a painful experience. This time despite the lack of preparation it had been delightful. She tensed her muscles unwilling to let go of his exhausted cock. “Oh honey that was the best, the very, very best. You can fuck me any way you want me any time you want me.”
“Laura its I who should be thanking you, nearly every time we make love you make one of my secret fantasies come true. I’ve woken up with you sucking my cock. I’ve made love to you when you’re dressed in a garter belt and stockings. And now I’ve butt-fucked you. You’re my dream woman.”
“The trouble is we all have to wake up from dreams.” The cloud descended, she gripped his arms, looked him in the eyes. “Promise me Simon you won’t lie to me. When it’s over, when you get bored with me, tell me. Be honest with me.”
“I love you Laura I’m not going to leave you.”
“You do now – but will you next week?”
He held her tight to him, he could not conceive giving her up, she acted so young that he had never given their ages a second thought. In fact all weekend except when she raised the issue he had not thought about there being an age difference.
She clung to him. If I go on like this I will drive him away! “Just hold me. Don’t let me go.” Just after she had said these words, his limp cock slipped from her with a soft but audible plop! It seemed symbolic of the impermanence of their relationship. Feeling suddenly empty she clung to him.
Maybe it was the long day, maybe it was the Champagne they had drunk, or perhaps it was a combination of these two factors, but sleep swept over them so fast that when Laura awakened unable to breathe, aware of a pressing weight, she felt as if she was being crushed. Opening her eyes she saw that Simon was asleep still lying on top of her.
She moved as his eyes flickered, closed, and then opened again. “What time is it?” He spoke through his yawn.
“Morning I think. Simon could you get off me I feel like I’ve been flattened.”
“What?” He was awake now taking in his surroundings. “Oh my god have we been asleep like this all night.” He asked as he rolled off her. “You poor thing why didn’t you wake me?”
“I was asleep too. I wanted you close to me and you were close to me.”
At the track the cars were given a brief check for safety. The drivers an equally cursory talk on the track flags. Laura decided to buy herself a helmet rather than renting one.
Having paid for the track time, and belted into the car she gunned the engine. The car was sitting on a line at the pit-lane exit. The marshal dropped the flag. Laura let the clutch out, she was now used to the little car’s tendency to wheel-spin the tires bit and she was pressed back into the seat as the car shot forward.
Obeying the marshal’s blue flag, she checked her mirrors as she joined the track proper. Keeping the rev counter needle near to the redline she changed up through the gears.
In no time the first bend approached, she began changing down. Another car shot past her. Up through the gears again, then down one gear, another bend, she could feel that the car’s back end was trying to slide. Change up, down three gears for the hairpin. The over-revving motor was screaming a protest. Change up and so on. The second lap she was as cautious as on the first lap, ignoring the cars that overtook her. On the third lap she began to test the car’s limits. The fourth lap she flew. All too soon she was starting the last lap. Foot nailed to the floor she scarcely lifted off. On nearly every bend the little car was sliding. She knew now what a four-wheel slide meant, and she knew how to control one.
Then it was over, she was being flagged into the pit-lane, and her five laps were done. Dropping down to the fifty mile per hour pit-lane speed limit her pace seemed to be sedentary. She pulled up in the paddock beside Simon’s Porsche. “How was it?” He asked as she removed her helmet.
“Half the time I was in a state of abject terror wondering why the heck I’d ever let you talk me into being out there and the other half was sheer unadulterated exhilaration – it was fantastic I was flying – I didn’t want to stop, ever!”
“I told you that you would enjoy it. If you go over to the trailer by the side of Race Control you can get your time sheet.”
Simon was talking to another man when she returned. Laura’s blood ran cold when she overheard the other man say. “Your mother sure knows how to handle her little car.”
Then she heard Simon reply. “That is my woman you’re talking about. Not my mother.” Hearing the confident way that Simon said those words gave her hope that they had a future.
She slipped her arm through Simon’s arm, put her lips near Simon’s ear. “Let’s find somewhere quiet that driving has left me as horny as hell and I’ve an itch that needs immediate attention.”