I dreaded being ‘babysat’ by my boring neighbours whilst my parents were on a business trip. How was I to know innocently assisting with a lunchtime salad, where the cucumber wasn’t sliced or diced but would see the green gourd initiate raunchy sex between me and an older married couple?
Here’s the story of how it unfolded and the incredible detail!
My dad had to go interstate for a symposium; partner accompanied because there was an awards night attached. He was speaking about business finance and getting a gong. He took it in his stride; mum took the opportunity to rekindle her libido while dads was way up and ideally not straying in the flush of middle-aged success.
Dad had additional business opportunities to create, and mum saw the chance for fine dining and romance and being exactly sure how and where his cock got fed in another city.
All I had to look forward to was swot vac before my final college exams.
I was cramming and ramming my brain full of theorems and formulas. I was more than capable of four days alone looking after myself. God, what better than an empty household to have a perfect study environment?
But no, my parents wanted me to focus on my study: supervised. No late-night straying or skipping meals or god knows what they thought I might get up to…I was boy friendless…they knew that…I was cock starved…they didn’t know that.
So I was foisted off on the couple across the road. Seriously did my parents think I was going to party every night? Hell, I was two weeks past eighteen, but your parents still see you as years younger. They have no idea your virginity was consigned to history in the first year of college, and this year started as a sweet experience for me when I could get it. Pity the pecker supply had stalled.
The truth was it had been lean in the last semester, and now I had my goddamn future and University entrance score to focus on. So off I went dutifully across the road to mum’s bridge partner: A natural life homemaker; a clone of that Bree in that Desperate Wisteria TV show.
The Stephenson’s would be so frickin boring I would be happy to study.
Mandy Stephenson was cloying. She was settling me in like a mother hen. She was late forties, and her chickette had flown the coup.
Roger Stephenson, possibly fifty, but I’m no judge of age, well, that sort of age; apparently didn’t give a rat about nubile skin under his roof and, after a cursory ‘hi’ was back to his seeming love in life: his railway models. We are talking serious big ‘little boy’ obsessive hobby here, rail engine mania, the Fatty Controller in the Tank, never growing up. Roger was a portly guy, President of his local model club and the local Steam Train Museum.
Don’t get me wrong: the Stephenson’s had a super guest room with an ensuite. An immaculate house and so quiet. I could have done with them having a son at home, catching him out wanking, and then fucking him senseless. A passing daydream.
Dinner on my first night was a yummy restaurant quality three courses. Still, I made study excuses, avoided chatting about home crafts and steam engines, and ripping up the stunning parquetry floor for slate tiles to complement their new granite bench top.
I snuck breakfast early the following day, as I was told to help myself, and I did.
It was around midday on my first full day there when I realised I couldn’t avoid them for lunch or for four days.
I had stuffed my head till bursting with frickin thermodynamics; all that crap about energy, motion, temperature and equilibrium. It wasn’t making a whole lot of sense.
Mandy was at her newly installed granite bench, prepping a salad as I entered the open-plan kitchen-dining area.
She said: “Hi sweetie… come and help me… Chloe…be a dear.”
Sweetie, indeed I thought; here was someone else treating me like a kid. Dear was too much.
Mandy had me shredding the lettuce next to her.
Well, looks are so frickin deceiving as she picked up a Lebanese cucumber. You know: firm, long, green and thin.
Friggin Lebanese cucumbers would never again be innocent green salad vegies and the associations now in my mind of the slimline, slightly rigid, bumpy, curvy veggie… well, nature is magnificent…and as a girl, I found out very quickly that not only your fingers, someone’s tongue or a cock can supply a girl with her basic pleasure needs…there are well plenty of other things available…it’s just imagination.
No, it’s not. It is filthy smutty thoughts and doing the deed.
Mandy put the cucumber to my lips. She was inviting me to suck the tip.
Yes, I had the: What the fuck, thought.
But her other hand was under my skirt and in the back of my panties, groping on my soft backside.
She had that wilful look in her eyes and a lustful combination of kneading softly and gripping firmly when it came to my butt cheeks.
I was sucking on a goddamn cucumber tip just like that. Oh, the so easily led sexually frustrated college girl. How did a married woman know I was a trashy sex-starved teenage slut.
She was working the cucumber in and out of my mouth.
Then Mandy gave me control of the green slimline natural sex toy. I shut my eyes, and yes, I imagined cock head.
Her hands were free to remove my blouse and bra. She was sucking on my nipples, really intensely but spacing her endeavours to maximise the pleasure tease.
I was enjoying any hands, other than my own, on my body. It had been too long—several weeks since I had felt so bodily alive.
Sure, sure hands had my skirt and pale pink knickers off. One of Mandy’s hands was between my already wet pussy lips.
She had the cucumber in her other hand and rubbed it over my nipples.
She got me to cup my breasts, and we were titty massaging the frickin elongated green pole between my useful cleavage.
I didn’t need much urging after that to get on the smooth marbled textured granite bench top. It was slightly cool on my arse, but my pussy was so heated as she rubbed the slender gourd across my trimmed brunette pubes and teased my crinkled pinky flaps with its nudgy flexi ribbed skin.
Mandy was a true bitch on heat…I would never have guessed…as she inserted the natural green dildo into my sopping pussy hole. I was moaning.
Then as she went deeper and the bendy shape and the natural ridges of the cucumber caught my ribbed internal flesh and pulled out my vaginal opening…boy was it good…it was like a frickin big hard cock…bigger and firmer than any cock I had ever had.
I was mouthing off like the white trash I secretly was: “Oh, you fuckin bitch…deeper…deeper…faster…Oh My God…Yes…Yess…Yess…Ohhh”
While the mistress of household order got very aroused at my squelchy pussy and the femcum now covering the cucumber tip. She was angling the bowed gourd deeper and working it quickly. In and out, drawing my flesh with it, in full satisfaction away from my body and then sinking it back into me in growing waves of absolute passionate sexual delight.
Trust me; it was fuckin amazing. My mind was racing ahead to try a banana one day.
I was lying back on the bench top, eyes closed, fully appreciating every cucumber thrust and prod.
Suddenly Mandy had me by the hand and was urging me to sit up and spread my legs on the granite. She was on the bench with me. Yeah, her body was older in its naked state, but her nipples were so hard and eye-drawing. But it was her cunt that took me by surprise and my breath away. It was hairy. Frickin hairy. I didn’t believe a woman could be so hairy down there. But her pussy lips were so fleshy spread…dangly, inviting…eye drawing, finger crooking and hooking…so soft to touch, so elastic to spread…she let me play with them for a minute…
Mandy had the cucumber between our open legs, and I was aroused again as she inserted it into my greedy pussy …but I gasped as she did the same with the other end.
We had the cucumber shared between our happy holes. A head each in our cunts and thick, generous green ribbed flex plying between us.
It was hardcore. It was beyond smutty. But it looked terrific. It was a double sin. We were pushing and wriggling our bodies on the bench building selfish pleasure for ourselves and maximising egotistical pleasure for another.
It was crude pussy gaped mutual delight.
How the fuck could I be doing this with an older woman. My neighbour. But it was so, so sensational; I couldn’t stop. Genitals ignore ageist discrimination.
“Sweetie, this is great,” she said, smacking her lips and squeezing my nipples. “But we need each other’s clits to finish this off. “
Mandy was on the edge of the bench top, and I was muff diving… my first ever woman’s pussy, and she was fifty years plus and a housewife, and my tongue and face were buried in a rich, musty mat of honeyed brown pubic fur.
But I was excited. Her clit was prominent and easy to feel under my tongue, and I was licking it how I hoped she would lick mine in a minute or two.
“Oh My God,” I went, and my head shot up from between her legs.
That frickin cucumber was being rimming around my arse. It was Roger, the dirty sod. The obscene prick was prodding into my tight back crack moments later.
Mandy grabbed my head and redirected my tongue back to her aching clitty.
I was feral. I spat into her flaps and nuzzled and burrowed my tongue in rapid sweeps over all her soft bits and her needy hard nub.
But my mind was split between Mandy’s cunny and my own arse’s aroused state of being.
Roger was ‘rogering’ my cute virgin arsehole with a frickin cucumber glistening with mine or his wife’s femcum…depending on which end he had in.
My arse felt divine. I couldn’t believe how amazing it felt. Fuck I thought it was great being a girl and having a pussy, but my arsehole filled… was a surprise delight.
I hadn’t realised in my sexual naivety that Roger was only priming my rear passage for his fat pecker.
I was initially disappointed as the cucumber was eased out and didn’t enter my demanding happy arsehole again.
But then I felt his meat stick jamming into my tightness.
“Orr…Fuck yes…Oh My God,” I managed before the pleasure reduced me to a moaning wench.
Roger was grunting. I was moaning. Mandy had missed her full climax because I was holding the bench as tight as a cock in my arse… enjoying my first anal pounding.
Then everything in the climaxing minutes was invested in his cock and my pussy.
Lunch! I was the sweet eighteen sandwich between a voracious husband and wife team.
Mandy was off the bench, putting pressure on my clithood with her fingers. She knew the spread: she didn’t place her fingers on my sensitive bead directly but used my hood’s friction to drive me to a stunning, stunning orgasm.
Well, looks are doubly deceiving; Roger, the steam train enthusiast was no Puffing Billy… he was a frickin high-speed bullet train service…with a deviant twist.
He eased out of my arse …I needed cock…I wanted cock…as I was going to cum very hard. Very soon.
Roger had the gourd back in my happy arse at an indecently satisfying depth.
Mandy was finger-frigging me at an offensively crude speed with an added coochie-spreading action, with her thumb driving my clit wild.
I saw Roger was also finger fucking his wife.
Mandy came loudly as he worked three fingers into her.
I felt a sticky liquid leak from my pussy as my body went blurry, high in absolute pleasure. My arse and pussy were competing in my bliss stakes.
Roger, the bastard, wasn’t finished yet, though Mandy and I were fem stuffed.
He urged our glutted gorged bodies to one more memorable enterprise…his jizz.
Well fuck me…did Roger have a fat erect pecker…and a surfeit of sperm…he spurted, and he spurted…
And Mandy and I… together…yes, I was shameless now…gobbled and gulped the splashing wads as he creamed our wide, paired, open mouths.
Funny how things click in life.
After lunch…Yeah, I was back to the study… I had two light bulb moments.
Having had sex with the two oldies: suddenly, energy, motion, temperature and equilibrium; were apparent in my mind.
Oh… the second thought was just plain dirty…I was going to ask Mandy if we could have bananas for dessert tonight.
Looks are so Deceiving
Lesbian, Insertion, Hetro and Anal content.