I knew Pat was out on another cycling expedition in a couple of days time, and that his father would still be away, so I called again at his house. His mother opened the door and I was surprised to see she was still in her nightclothes, as it was gone ten in the morning. She wore an elegant (and no doubt very expensive) ankle length Victorian nightgown, with a delicate lace collar. It's beautifully embroidered, pin tucked bodice clung to her body and her nipples poked provocatively through the fine white linen. It was buttoned down the front to below her waist, although the top two or three buttons were casually undone. She looked stunning.
'I suspected I might see you again today,' she smiled. 'Follow me.' She daintily lifted the skirt of her nightgown and went upstairs, the gown moulding deliciously round her feminine curves as she climbed. Her unmade king size bed was a tangle of white sheets, with a serpentine headboard, deep buttoned in purple velvet. She slid onto the bed, told me to undress and then patted the bed for me join her.
'Pat left early, about 7:30am, and I've been diddling on and off ever since,' she announced. 'But I've not brought myself off yet. I was hoping you might be able to do that for me!' Without waiting for my response, she added 'Will you please undo my buttons.' My penis was already at full stretch. As I slowly unbuttoned her nightgown the tension was almost unbearable, I think for both of us. I tried to be cool and confident, but I fumbled with a couple of buttons and she quietly sniggered to herself. I slid my hand into the front of her gown without asking, half expecting a rebuke, but there was none. I felt for her still covered breast. Still no rebuke, so I massaged it, working up to her nipple as she had done herself two days before.
I traced her areola with my finger tip and gently squeezed the eraser tipped nipple. Her eyes closed, her head went back and she sighed. Silently, she took my hand in hers and with her other one she lifted the hem of her nightgown. She placed my thumb against her bulging pussy lips, to one side of her enormous clitoris and my middle finger against the other side leaving my index finger free. 'Squeeze my pussy lips' she said. I squeezed, gently rocking my fingers back and forth, alternately pulling her clitoris tight and releasing it, so that it nodded like some bizarre clockwork toy.
She groaned as it tightened and relaxed as it released. 'Please come inside me' she whispered. I slid first one, then two, then three fingers into her gaping pussy, moving them in time with my other hand. Impaled on my fingers she bucked and whooped with each thrust, as if she were a demented cowboy. Then suddenly, through clenched teeth, she mouthed 'Touch it.' I touched her clitoris with my index finger and she recoiled, howled and orgasmed. She pulled away and half furled in a sheet, she curled up, purring and grinning like a contented cat. After a while, still curled, she reached out and touched my aching penis for the first time. The effect was electrifying. It took my breath away and I felt the hackles on my back rise. She explored and caressed it, taking her time over every inch. I had been masturbating for some years now, but she introduced me to sensitive spots I had not yet found. Suddenly she sat up and tightened her grasp on my shaft, jerking it vigorously up and down, pulling the skin taught, making the veins bulge, catching the rim of my helmet as her hand slid over it. I cried out. After no more than a dozen of these deft strokes my cream erupted in agonised bursts and I slumped back on the bed.
Pat was forever trying to persuade me to join his cycling club, but I always seemed to be able to find an excuse not to. But I continued to visit his voracious 'posh mum' whenever the opportunity arose.