Anymouse

continued from part 3 Part 4 Once again, she came and lay close beside me – she pulled the duvet up over us, but she didn’t release me. But we just lay there, in post-coital bliss, while she just traced idle patterns around my balls, and up my prick, around the tip, and back again. Me, I couldn’t do anything – Lisa was a most generous woman – she gave without seeking a return. Mind you, she had had two crashing orgasms within half an hour, so she wasn’t doing too badly. ...

continued from part 4 Part 5. I gradually relaxed, and let my sensations take over. I was in this complete rubber and latex skin, and there was a cool breeze blowing over me – Lisa must have opened the window wide before leaving the room. At least, I assumed she had left the room – for all I knew, she might have been there taking photographs of me from all angles to send to my clients as an example of what their accountant got up to in his spare time. In fact, that thought didn’t occur to me then, and I don’t know why it should have come into my head now – except to be instantly dismissed because a.) Lisa wouldn’t do such a thing, and b.) actually, I didn’t give a toss if she did. ...

continued from part 2 Part 3 I lay there quietly alongside her, thinking furiously. What would Jenny have said? How involved was I going to get? What was it that had caused the explosion of lust? The last question was easy: Lisa was one sexy lady, and I, although I hadn’t thought about it, was ready for sex again. Well, maybe I had thought about it, but I’d repressed it (it’s the early part of the male mid-life crisis – later on, you’re apt to think about it too much, and go out and make a fool of yourself with much younger women). ...

Part 1 I have just had a week-end like no other. I have just had a life-changing experience. I have just found myself – I hope: and maybe someone special, as well My name is Andrew, Andrew Welch. I’m a childless widower, aged 39. I live alone, in the house that Jenny and I had hoped to make our first home. Where? That doesn’t matter, but it’s in England, on a small development about two miles from the city where I work. ...

continued from part 1 Part 2 I tapped on her door at seven sharp, and she opened it as though she’d been waiting for me. She reached out her hands to me, and drew me inside, and kissed me again, properly on the lips this time, and said, “Welcome to my lair”. She had let her hair down, and was wearing a shimmering silver-ish kaftan, which, I realised in short order, was made of latex. She led me, her kaftan swishing, to her living room, and indicated a chair. “Won’t be a minute” she said, and went out to the kitchen. I heard a pop, and she came in again with two glasses of champagne. ...