The Secrets of Mrs Jean Pettigrew - Chapter 5

The next morning Dave awoke to find himself alreadyaroused as that wonderful aroma of last night’s spent cum on his bellypermeated his nostrils.  He consideredrolling over and going again while watching his prized video, but he had moreexciting things planned.  After a quickshower, and light breakfast he was back at his computer, typing the name ofJean Pettigrew into every search engine he could think of.  His former police colleagues had alreadyconfirmed that she was squeaky clean, but he wanted to find out as much as hecould about her.  One of the downsides torunning for public office (as many a politician has discovered to their cost)is that an awful lot of your personal data is in the public domain.  So, it didn’t take long for Dave to discover nearlyeverything he needed to know. 

Jean Pettigrew, 48 years old, married for 26 years toMichael, with two daughters, Linda 23 and Victoria 20.  She had graduated from Cambridge University witha First in Music and taught at a local private school for 20 years, beforeretiring and being elected to the local Town Council.  As a young woman she was an accomplishedshowjumper and event rider. She was organist at the local parish church andmember of the local Women’s Institute.  By the time he finished he had her address,mobile number, email and social media profile. Dave smiled to himself as he readthrough the details, trying in his mind to reconcile the wholesome woman on thesearch engine results, to the insatiable woman he had seen in the throes of a violentorgasm in the car park!

 Insatiable was indeed the word for Jean that afternoon,as she lay on the bed in the spare room! Her legs were flopped wide apart with bent knees as she brought the thickpolished wooden spoon handle to her pussy for the third time.  It was already slick with her juices, but shestill had to manoeuvre it carefully into position between her labia and inch itforward until it filled her pussy.  Shehad seen the wonderfully phallic object in a local craft market and knewinstantly she needed it inside her.  Twicein the last hour it had penetrated her so thoroughly that she felt stretchedbeyond belief, but it didn’t stop her from wanting more.  The towel on which she lay was soaked withthe flood from those first two orgasms, but once more she began to ride it, hermuscles clamping down as hard as they could to envelop it again.  Both hands gripped the wooden spoon as itploughed her, and this time she wanted it fast and hard, unlike the slow and sensualprevious penetrations.  She had a differentfantasy in her head now.  She wasstrapped to a table with thick, rough leather bands, rubbing against herthighs, belly and nipples as she squirmed against her bonds.  She was being penetrated by a huge mechanicalornate carved wooden phallus in some kind of erotic ritual sacrifice.  She was lost in the power of it. Grunting andwrithing as it built within her, her muscles spasmed suddenly almost forcingthe huge implement from her explosively. As it left her, it was followed by another great gush from her vaginaand a guttural sound from her throat.  Asshe spasmed again she clenched her thighs tightly together as if to hold on tothat full, satiated feeling forever.

Exhausted, Jean slept for two hours, which was unusualfor her.  Cleaning up in the bedroom tooklonger than usual after her overindulgence. The bed was soaked, through her towel, and almost down to the mattress.  By the time she got downstairs it was closeto 5pm and her husband would soon be home from work. She prepared the dinnerand put it in the oven before sitting down to browse her emails.  Her younger daughter was coming home fromuniversity for the weekend, which delighted her, as they were long overdue somemother and daughter time. There were the inevitable complaints from her wardconstituents about trivial council matters. But what was this?

From: DG999@personalmail.co.uk

Subject: For the urgent personal attention of Mrs J Pettigrew-with regard to a “cark park incident”

Dear Mrs Pettigrew,

Can I congratulate you on the wonderful performance withwhich you entertained me yesterday afternoon at 4pm in the supermarket carpark.  I don’t think I have witnessedanything quite so arousing in many years! What I enjoyed most was the fact that you gave your all for the cameras.A truly Oscar worthy portrayal of a woman consumed with lust in a public place,with seemingly no concern for the possible criminal charges of IndecentExposure or Outraging Public Decency.  So,in the circumstances, I would be very grateful if you would make space in yourbusy schedule to stage repeat performances in the near future.  We can discuss the details later, once youhave had time to consider the implications of this email on your family, career,and, of course, your church membership. I attach a picture of my favourite moment from your performance to showmy appreciation.

Kind regards

Your biggest fan!

She knew that there was little point in clicking on thepicture attachment. He had already explained enough detail to render the proofof blackmail a formality, but she clicked anyway.  There, in full glorious technicolour, was acloseup of her vagina being impaled by a carrot, and the look of total bliss onher fully exposed face.  Every drop ofblood seemed to have drained from her body. Her mind was blank, unable to understandthe reality switch from last minute to now. She felt tears forming in her eyes.  But, subconsciously and unbidden, moistnessformed elsewhere too as she gazed upon the picture of herself cumming…………….