She quaked violently, revelling in the forbidden glory of sex. Pierre held hard on to both sides of the bed fearing they were making a noise, whilst the tumult inside Delia’s body brought about his own shaking climax. He was incapable of escaping the spasmodic wrench in his jubilant loins. His long pent-up discharge exploded deep into Delia’s joyous paradise.
His cock filled her with spurt after spurt of his liquid libation. Delia wanted to cry out in glory and exultation her thanks to God for his bounty. After the succession of judders subsided, their bodies slackened until they became still, foreheads touching. A brief rest was followed, with much caution, by Pierre pushing slowly in and pulling out of Delia’s citadel, careful to prevent the bed from squeaking, while brushing his lips over the nut-hard nipples of Delia’s drooping breasts.
But Pierre’s visit to Delia’s room had not gone unnoticed. Delia’s mother had sensed the sexually charged atmosphere, thinking rightly that the last night of their visit would be the time for any attempts to taste the forbidden fruit. She had felt disturbing feelings of sexual arousal ever since the other evening when she was unable to stay to experience the freedom of sex.
Memories of earlier days had persuaded her to feel at her own soft lips, encased in their hairy frame. She felt the juices leaking from her vulva and felt ashamed of her sexual desires. But they were not to be denied. Whilst her husband slept peacefully beside her, she played furtively with her clitoris until the tumult in her belly reached a peak. The jerk f her loins were unavoidable.
On this night, she heard the faintest of squeaks of the hinge as a bedroom door opened, and the light cat-like tread outside her own bedroom. She knew every creak and whisper of the house. Her husband was sound asleep, helped by his usual sleeping pill, but she had determined to remain awake, straining her ears for the slightest sign of nocturnal activity.
The slight click as a door closed told her that a visitor was now in Delia’s room. She wondered what Delia would do but was soon enlightened by the faint rustle of bed clothes; the almost imperceptible rasp of the bed as it resisted the weight of the extra body. It seemed, then, that her daughter was to allow Pierre – she was certain it was he – to make love to her.
She was glad that it wasn’t the boy-friend Johnnie. She couldn’t get to like him at all. And, as she had tidied the French boys’ bed earlier in the day, she had noticed Pierre’s wallet on the dressing table. Tell-tale rings made by condoms were clearly visible. A sly peep into the wallet confirmed a packet of three. So there was little danger of conception.
As these thoughts crossed through her mind she fancied she could hear irregular breathing and sighs, but perhaps it was her fancy. There was little she could do other than have a confrontation with the whole household in the middle of the night. Had it been Johnnie, she might have done something about it, but a Frenchman whom Delia was unlikely to see again gave her a curious sense of approval.
The newly discovered desire in her own loins took her by surprise. Yes! There was no doubt that her desires were aroused at the thought of the handsome blonde boy fucking her daughter – though fucking was a word she would never use. Fornicating! Delia was fortunate.
Pretending to herself that she wanted to be sure that it was, indeed, Pierre who had visited her daughter, she slipped softly out of bed to move silently onto the landing. Her ears were cocked at Delia’s door. Sure enough, although there was no sound of bed springs, the sound of irregular breathing suggested physical effort.
The door to the boys’ bedroom being open, she peered inside. There was no Pierre. Just Jacques fast asleep, lying on his side. The covers had slipped half off the bed, revealing his hairy chest and navel, with his half swollen penis lolling from its thick nest of hair over the top of his thigh.
Something disturbed Jacques, for one of his eyes opened a crack, to catch Delia’s mother staring at his naked genitals. He immediately closed it again, not wishing to embarrass her. Then, the thought of a woman’s eyes examining him, stirred his imagination which resulted in the object of her admiration beginning to thicken and jerk as it became aroused.
Jacques was well known among his friends for his interest in having sexual intercourse with women of any age, being particularly fond of ladies in their late thirties and forties who, he believed, could give a man more satisfaction than a younger, less experienced woman.
Delia’s mother had a good figure, nice breasts showing beneath her thin cotton nightie, though perhaps somewhat thick round the middle. It would certainly accommodate his crusading penis which she found so fascinating. He wondered where Pierre was until it suddenly struck him that he must be in bed with Delia. That thought only served to complete the swelling of his now magnificent erection, pressing hard into his navel.
Time to open his eyes and smile. So he did! The older woman gave him a serious glance then returned her gaze to his stiff cock. Unable to resist, she reached down to hold it gingerly in her hand, feeling its warmth, throbbing with life.
He spread his arms inviting her join him. After a moment’s hesitation, she threw caution to the wind, lay face down on the bed, parting her chubby thighs. Jacques was soon laying on top of her buttocks, taking hold of his rod to present it to the hot lips of her vulva.
After nudging the shaft up and down the crack, she felt the plentiful lubrication seeping onto the outer lips, before it was thrust slowly into her yearning tightness. Her genitals had been so long neglected, she felt like a virgin all over again, marvelling at the feel of a cock deep inside her once more. It was unbelievably wonderful! To be a woman again. To feel her body revel in the joy of union with a male.
To her delight, Jacques performed long and powerfully. She was thankful that the bed had a silent mattress to conceal the activity, until that wonderful sensation she had almost forgotten, flooded her body and she reached a trembling, energetic orgasm, helped by Jacques fingers flicking over her clitoris.
When her shaking had subsided, Jacques rolled her onto her back, sat straddled over her waist before taking hold of his stiff shaft. She watched transfixed as he jerked it in front of her face. It only required a few fast strokes before his sperm splashed abundantly in a succession of gushes over her nightie.
After a few moments of silence, she slipped off the bed from under him, without looking back, returning quickly to her own bed. Shortly afterwards, she heard the soft tread of Pierre returning to his room.
It was, in fact, half an hour after her mother had joined Jacques, and following a second ejaculation from Pierre into Delia’s responsive citadel, with much fondling and sighing, that he returned, happy and contented, to his own bed. Curiously enough, at no time had the lovers’ lips met. It was a mystical meeting of the genitals, a glorifying of the physical act devoid of any tender feelings.