Still Wet From Her

"I love fucking your tight cunt, Helen."

"Mmm yes. Keep fucking it. Just... like... that..."

"I'm going to fucking come so much inside you... can I come inside you, Helen?" Even then, a moment of anxiety. Was she on the pill? Shouldn't we be using a condom?

"You fucking use me just how you want," she hissed. "I'm yours to do what you want with. As long as you fuck me hard, you can come in me whenever you want."

"Fuck Helen... fuck... you make me so fucking hard."

I was close now, dangerously close. Alarm bells were ringing -- this had only been a few minutes, and to come inside her now, after so short a time -- surely she'd be disappointed.

"Come in me now, David. Fill up my cunt with your lovely hot come."

That pushed me over the edge. I couldn't help but cry out as I came, the most intense, almost painful orgasm I could remember having for years. It felt like I was never going to stop, shooting ropes and ropes of my seed deep inside her. I felt her clench beneath me and cry out too, her pussy tight around me, muscles rippling as her own orgasm overtook her.

The room span for a while. I remember lying slumped on top of her, taking most of my weight on my arms as I gasped for breath, feeling my juices trickling out of her. Then her hand went around the back of my head and she stroked my hair.

"Oh god," she said. "I really needed that."

I pushed myself up so I could look at her. "I'm sorry... I couldn't last a bit longer."

She put a finger to my lips. "It was perfect," she said. "I hope I didn't shock you."

"Not at all."

"I can be a really... foul-mouthed needy little bitch sometimes. Sorry."

"It really turned me on," I said. "Hearing you... talk like that. With your lovely voice. It was just... wow!"

She laughed at that. "You like me talking dirty?"

"I really do, yes."

She wriggled provocatively beneath me.

"It gets your cock hard?"

I nodded.

"That cock of yours which is still buried balls-deep in my soaking wet cunt."

My whole body twitched again at that, and she smirked.

"Well... that's good to know," she said. "And I'd love you to fuck me again, and I bet if I sucked that lovely sticky cock of yours I could soon get you hard again... but Stella will be back soon. So we'll just have to wait until next time, won't we?"

**

Stella was still a little spooked after the incident with Mr Miller -- I think they both were -- so we agreed that I would fetch a camp bed from my house and for the next few days I would stay with them each night. It was discussed as it was a temporary arrangement, but somehow none of us ever suggested when it should end, and so it became an accepted routine. On non-delivery days, that is every day apart from Friday and Saturday, I would rise quite early and head home. There I would work in my study until about six, when I would drive back to them for an evening meal and, more often than not, a film before bed.

Except I didn't always work. Some days, at least twice a week, sometimes three, Helen would drive over to my house, and we'd go to bed for a couple of hours.

We learnt a lot about each other, both as people and as sexual partners. Initially I still felt traces of guilt that Helen wanted me to use her quite as roughly as she liked. I never hurt her -- she wasn't into pain or anything like that -- but she loved the feeling of being used for pleasure. That was what really got her off, and after a while I forgot my misgivings and began to lose myself in the sheer animal pleasure of taking her.

I wanted to try other things too, which initially she wasn't sure about. She was surprisingly hesitant about my going down on her, for example. She said the few times she'd had it done to her, she hadn't really enjoyed it. It didn't fit her mental model as the female being the one to provide pleasure, rather than being the sole recipient of it. I assured her that few things turned me on more than making a woman come with my tongue, so she relented. It took a while for her to relax enough, but one thing my wife had taught me was to be patient and slow and persistent, and eventually she was crying out and grinding herself into my face, both hands on my head, forcing me down as her body shook.

We talked a lot about sex. She was disarmingly frank and open about it, as well having that wonderfully dirty mouth.

"I always regretted not starting when I was younger," she told me, her hand gently stroking my cock as we nestled together in my bed. "I didn't get fucked until I was twenty. Such a fucking waste!"

"Who would you have wanted to fuck when you were younger?" I was curious.

"God... loads of people. There was one dad of a school friend of mine... he was always looking at me. Mmm, he was sexy. Looked a bit like you, actually. Maybe that's why I love you fucking me so much now... reliving that old fantasy."

"He never made a move?"

"No! So disappointing! If he'd have given me the slightest encouragement, found any opportunity for us to be alone together.... God, I would have been his eager little slut, no question."

"Poor guy," I said. "Never knowing what could have been if he'd just had the nerve. I bet he used to daydream about you all the time."

"Mmm... yes. Picking me up and going somewhere so I could suck him off in the car. That would have been so hot!"

"You wouldn't have felt used?"

Helen sighed. "I wasn't in love with him, David! I didn't expect him to leave his wife and run off with me and I'd have his babies. I just wanted him to fuck me! You men, you think we're all sentimental and gooey.... You're the sentimental ones, most of the time."

"So you'd have been happy being... his little fuck toy?"

"God yes! Bending over whenever he wanted me, feeling his cock, all hard because of me, fucking me and using me... Christ, I'm getting horny again thinking about it."

She was too. She rolled over and straddled me, trapping my cock between the lips of her pussy as it lay flay on my stomach. She began to grind against me. She liked doing that -- she said the sensation of my cock against her clitoris was better than any vibrator.

"You thinking about me as a teenage slut, David?"

"Certainly not," I said, with as much sincerity as I could muster. Which wasn't much.

"Ha! Then why are you getting hard?"

"Because you're doing that."

"Uh-uh. Pretend it's my little teen cunt pressing against your cock. Eighteen years old and ready to spread my legs so wide for you.. such a wet little pussy, all yours... whenever you want..."

I forced her up so her body lifted slightly, allowing my cock to spring up and probe her wetness. Then I pushed her back down, driving myself into her as I did so. She moaned again, but kept up her teasing commentary.

"Fuck yes... you like being in my teenage cunt mister?"

"It's so fucking tight."

"Mmm... you can fuck it whenever you want, mister. And if you want me to suck you off, I'll do that too. You can do anything you want to me. What was it you said? Fuck toy? Am I your fuck toy, David?"

I rolled her onto her back. She always came hardest there. Again, she liked the feeling of being dominated, her man pressing down on her.

"Yes... now shut up and let me fuck you."

I kissed her as I fucked her with increasing urgency. Any worries I had about hurting her had long since evaporated. It was almost impossible to fuck her too hard or use her too roughly -- the size of her own orgasm was nearly always proportional to the vigour with which she was taken. For my part I loved the feeling of our mouths being locked together, hearing her breathing get more ragged as I pounded her with that rising sense of need. I felt almost lost in her.

I had a faint concern though. I had already come twice, and I doubted a third time was going to be possible. Helen always loved it when I came inside her, and the few times I hadn't been able to had felt like slight disappointments to us both.

We fucked in our usual aggressive way for several more minutes before I murmured rather breathlessly to her. "I don't think I can... come again.... not so soon."

She didn't reply immediately. Her eyes were closed and she seemed lost deep inside herself.

"Fuck that... little teen cunt," she said in my ear.

She pushed hard and upwards, forcing me deep inside her, as if she was trying to make sure I couldn't escape her clutches. Her arms were tight around my back.

I pounded her harder still. But I knew it was still no good, and she sensed it too. And she knew what to do. She'd known for a long time, as it turned out.

"Fuck Stella. Fuck my daughter's cunt, David."

I exploded inside her.

A few second later, Helen came too. Her nails dug into my back with a ferocity that I'd never felt before.

**

Afterwards, as we got dressed, I sensed there was an unusually awkward silence between us. Something had changed that could never be put back as it was.

I was worried that she'd felt we'd gone too far, and she would now retreat to safety and banish me from our lives. Even after our few short weeks together, I couldn't imagine life without them.

She came over to me, turning me so that we stood face to face. I couldn't meet her eyes.

"It's ok," she said.

"Is it?"

She nodded.

"I took us over that line, David. But it was a line I wanted to cross."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again, smiling faintly this time.

"Did that turn you on -- what I said? I know it did."

My turn to nod.

"Good. It turned me on too, shocking you like that. Saying something so... terrible. I know that probably makes me a wicked mother, but I don't care. At least I'm honest. And the truth is... "

She paused. "The truth is... the idea of you being with Stella really turns me on."

I didn't say anything at first. I just looked at her.

"It's just a fantasy," I said eventually. "It's... a very sexy fantasy."

"For now," she said. "But... these are strange times, David. Aren't they?"

**

I was still staring at her. I wouldn't have been surprised if my mouth was hanging open.

"But... it's not something that could actually happen."

"Why not?"

"It's just... it wouldn't be right!"

"Says who? We've established it turns you on. It turns me on, too. And Stella's certainly up for it."

I stared at her, open-mouthed, and she laughed.

"You've... discussed it?"

She looked down at the floor and shrugged. I have learnt since that when she does that, she's often about to lie. But I didn't know that then.

"Well... not exactly. But she knows we're fucking all the time. And she has got quite a crush on you, you must have noticed that."

"Really?"

"God... it's amazing men ever get laid, they're so dense. Of course she has."

I considered this. My head was spinning.

"So... you think she'd be happy to... just come over here and hop into bed with us?"

"God no! I'm not talking about a threesome. There are some lines even I won't cross. Well, probably not. But... she'd go to bed with you, any time you ask her. She's seen how I am when I get home after seeing you... she's a lot like me in that respect."

"Hang on. Wait. Seen how you are? What do you mean?"

"I mean -- she sees how good I feel. How happy. Contented -- except that doesn't do it justice. I feel like every thing's as it should be. You have no idea how wonderful it feels to be a woman who's really well fucked by her man... it's hard to describe... somehow, the whole world just seems brighter and better and lovely."

I was silent, absorbing this.

She reached up and touched my face, turning me to look at her.

"And I want that for Stella. She's very similar to me. Very passionate, very sensual... and a little on the submissive side."

"Jesus H Fuck," I said. "I can't quite believe what you're saying. And -- you wouldn't be jealous?"

"No... not of my own daughter. I don't want her to waste some of her youth in the same way I did. Sex is such an important, fundamental part of life, David, and we dress it up with fancy terms and ideas about love and respect and decency -- and those are all good things, of course they are... but at the end of the day..."

She trailed off. "At the end of the day... I want us to be your women. Because I know you're good and decent and kind and you won't take advantage of us... and the idea of being totally yours, and my daughter as well... I just find that incredibly erotic and... somehow right. For all of us. Does that make any sense?"

"Not really," I said.

"OK," she said. "Try this. Does the idea of being able to fuck a hot mum, and her hot teenage daughter, whenever you want, make your cock really, really hard?"

"Fuck yes," I said.

"Then focus on that. And let us worry about the rest of it."

There have been worse suggestions.

**

Helen said she would talk to Stella as soon as she got home. I watched her drive away, feeling excited and nervous in equal measure. Was she really serious? It would be a total male fantasy come true if so... but I couldn't quite believe it would happen. And my heart sank when I got a text message from her later that evening.

Don't come and help with deliveries tomorrow, OK? Need a bit of time here, just the two of us. H. x

Damn! She'd spoken to Stella and she'd freaked out and now... now it was going to be horribly awkward the next time I saw them. If I even saw them again. Maybe she'd be so mortified at her error of judgement she'd move the two of them away, to another part of the country. That was an appalling thought.

I texted back.

I really hope everything is OK. I assume Stella horrified? We should have left it as fantasy. Sorry. X

When her text came back, a few minutes later, I could almost hear her amused exasperation.

Just relax. All good. We'll see you next week. X

Well, that made me feel slightly better. But -- the idea of a few days without seeing them didn't appeal at all. I was so used to being around them, hearing them laugh and tease each other and flirt with me... suddenly my little house seemed very lonely indeed.

My phone buzzed again.

Oh... and if I were you... don't masturbate for the next few days!

"Jesus Fucking Christ," I said to the empty room. "Jesus H Fucking Christ."

**

She'd said "we'll see you next week." I took that to mean towards the end of the week, when they'd be gearing up once again for their weekly mammoth cooking sessions and subsequent deliveries. So when Monday came after a rather dull and frustrating weekend, I was resigned to another few empty days without them.

It was that evening when I heard a car pull up on the road outside my house. My study was upstairs and on the opposite side, and by the time I'd made my way downstairs and opened the door to look out, the car had gone. I was disappointed. Even an Amazon delivery driver would have been a welcome distraction. Then I noticed the girl standing in the garden, a small bag at her feet, looking at me and smiling.

"Hello David," she said.

"I've missed you," I said. It was the first thing that came into my head, and of course it was true.

"I've missed you too," she said. "Mum just dropped me off. She said I should stay here for a few days. You're to bring me home on Thursday, in time to help with the cooking. That's OK, isn't it?"

There was a quiet humour in her voice as she looked at me.

"Yes," I said. "That's OK, Stella. Come inside."

She picked up her bag and I held the door for her. As she brushed past me I caught a trace of her perfume. She smelt of spring flowers.

**

She made supper for us both, moving comfortably around my kitchen, tutting occasionally at my rather basic utensils and pots and pans. She made us a delicious omelette each, with some fresh asparagus and broccoli both of which she got just right -- not overcooked and soggy as it tended to be when I cooked. I poured her a half glass of wine and a much larger one for myself. We ate at my dining table and chatted easily enough about this and that -- I can't honestly remember what. I was very conscious, however, of the evening creeping on and the hour approaching when we would head upstairs. And then what? I had a spare bedroom. Would she prefer to be alone in there, for tonight at least?

I suppose what I was expecting was a quiet, careful, friendly and loving seduction scene. She would be nervous and I would be kind. We would start slow, if and when the moment arrived, and if she just wanted to do more than some gentle touching to start with, that would be fine. I would be the epitome of a sensitive, considerate, older lover, teaching a young girl the ways of love.

Of course, it was nothing like that. Stella was more like her mother than I'd realised.

We moved into the living room after we'd eaten, sitting together on the sofa as we drank our wine. We'd been talking about how their business had started early in the lockdown, of how she and her mother had got lost so many times trying to find houses tucked away on obscure lanes.

"But it was fun," she said. "Everything with Mum is always fun."

I nodded, thinking of my times in bed with her. That was an understatement, I thought.

I don't know if she somehow picked up on my thought or if her own mind was running in that direction anyway. Probably the latter.

"She invented this game," she said. "She told me that if we were two guys, driving around like this, we'd score all the women we saw out of ten. On how ... fanciable they were."

She hesitated on the word "fanciable". I suspected her mother had actually used another word.

"Not all men," I said.

"No.... perhaps not. But we all think like that, don't we? We can't help it. Looking at people and thinking if they're attractive or not. Looking at old people and thinking what they were like when they were younger."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"So, we started doing the same thing. All the men we saw, we marked them out of ten. Based on how much we fancied them."

She looked at me mischievously.

"The problem with this place is... lots of retired couples. The average age must be about a hundred and twenty."

"At least," I agreed.

"So... you know. Lots of twos and threes. The occasional four or five. But... really disappointing, you know?"

"Yes, it must have been."

"And then you called Mum. And she said, based on your voice, you sounded like at least an eight. And just the idea of there perhaps being an eight out there -- well, we cooked some extra straightaway, just so we could see if she was right."

I closed my eyes. "Go on. Get it over with. The tension is killing me."

"So when we met you... as we drove up and I saw you for the first time I said yes, definitely an eight, and when Mum got back in the car having spoken to you properly she said maybe you were even a nine."

I don't think I've ever been more flattered in my whole life. Of course, I pretended to be offended.

"Only a nine!"

"Yes," said Stella, looking at me quite seriously. "A nine based on looks. But then, after you went to bed with her, she said you were a ten. And that you'd be perfect."

"Perfect? Perfect for what?"

"To be my older lover, of course. We'd talked about it loads, but we never thought we'd find the right person around here. And when the lockdown started, well, the whole idea went on hold. But actually that made it even better, because of you helping us and everything and us getting to know you properly."

My head was spinning a little.

"So... you'd been on the lookout, both of you, for a man to... go to bed with you?"

"Yes. Mummy always wished somebody had arranged that for her. She's very... open-minded about all that sort of thing."

Another fairly colossal understatement, I thought.

"So... she went to bed with me... as a kind of road test?"

Stella nodded. "Yes. And then I think she got a bit greedy, actually. She kept teasing me and telling me she was going to keep you all to herself. And that hadn't been the plan at all!"