“I hope that you enjoy this story about the aftermath of an overheard conversation that led to something unexpected. Please leave me a comment in the story and tell me your thoughts; I adore reading your feedback. Thank you so much, love, Mica xxx P.S.: Please note, I write using British English, so for me, a ‘pussy’ is a pet cat! ‘Fanny’ is the word of choice for my lady parts. Everyone is over 18. Please enjoy my story. xxx”
I was in the kitchen peeling some potatoes, as we would have fishcakes and mash for tea, when the front doorbell rang. I put the peeler down and wiped my hands before walking to the front door.
“Hello, Mrs M.” It was Gregory, Mik’s friend.
“Hello, Gregory. Mik isn’t here; I’m just getting things ready for our tea.”
“Oh, okay, Mrs M, I did wonder if you had some spare time, you know.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Gregory; I really don’t today. Mik’s dad will be home soon, and he will be wanting his tea.”
“Okay, Mrs M, I just hoped a little, you know.”
After Gregory went, I moved back to the kitchen and to my peeling chore. I had told a bit of a porky; Paul wouldn’t be home for a few hours, but I knew what Gregory wanted. He had come round the other day, and we had ended up shagging.
I had overheard him earlier talking to Mik about how he wanted to shag me, and I had stupidly decided to tease him. I had flashed my knickers a few times, with no intention apart from simply sending him home with a hard dick. He saw it differently, and the next thing I knew, he was shagging me enthusiastically in the kitchen.
I put the potatoes on to boil and checked the fishcakes; they were oven-cooked from frozen. They would be fine for twenty minutes or so sitting waiting to go in the oven. Mik wasn’t home for tea; he was off round to a friend’s house for computer games, ‘Warhammer’, I think, but I could be wrong. I was about to put the fishcakes in the oven when the front door opened, and I heard Paul’s footfall on the hall floor. I turned to the kitchen door.
“Hello, darling,” I said as Paul came in, dropping his bag on the work surface; his arms outstretched, he took me in his arms and kissed me. I could feel his hardness as he pressed against me.
“Hello, baby,” he murmured into my mouth, his hands rucking my skirt up as he pushed my back against the worksurface. Oh God, I had a flashback to Greg and how he had shagged me hard in the kitchen, how his dick had plundered my depths, hard, stretching, and filling. I gasped at the memory; Paul took my gasp as a response to his actions, not my memories. Fingers pulled at my knickers, pushing them to one side, my fanny once more exposed in my kitchen.
I heard Paul’s zip undoing and then felt his dick as it pressed against my fanny lips.
“Oh, baby,” I managed as his dick pushed, my entrance parting, my opening flaring and his dick sliding inside me. He began to move, an urgency about him, as if he needed me, needed to fill me, have me, and possess me.
“I overheard a lad on the bus talking on his phone; he was sitting behind me,” he said as his dick slid inside me. “He was saying how he had fucked his mate’s mum.”
“Oh, crikey,” I gasped. “I bet it was just wishful thinking; you know what boys are like.”
“He was describing how she had flashed her knickers at him, how her knickers were stretched so tight over her that he could see her crease. He said how hot her fanny was when he fingered her and how she began to gasp and pant as he pushed his dick deep inside her fanny.”
“Oh, God, baby,” I gasped; it was as if I were hearing Greg’s words.
“It made me so hard, baby; I just had to have you. All I could think about was your fanny.”
“God, yes, baby, I want you; I’m not some teenage boy’s fantasy,” I lied as I pushed back at his thrusting dick, the worksurface digging cruelly into my buttocks.
“Imagine if I were one of Mik’s friends,” Paul said. “Dreaming about you, catching a glimpse of your fanny under your skirt, I wouldn’t be able to hold back; I would have to have you.”
“Oh, God, Paul,” I said, my voice rising as my orgasm approached yet remained distant.
“Oh, fuck,” Paul gasped, and I felt his dick spurt, filling my fanny, flooding me with memories of Greg and his dick filling me.
I faked it; I had been too full of memories of Greg to let myself go, afraid I would blurt out the wrong name. I shrieked, I screamed, I dug my fingernails into his back, and I let my knees slump. “Oh, baby, yes,” I managed, the final part of my fakery. Men are so gullible.
I sat at the table later, with Paul, as we ate our fishcakes and mash, my fanny sloshing with his swimmers, my knickers getting wetter as his deposits oozed out of me. I would have to rinse them after I had taken them off.
“Did you see the boy?” I asked Paul.
“Boy?”
“The one that was talking about shagging his mate’s mum.”
“God, no, I was staring forward, my dick straining in my trousers. When we got to my stop, I held my bag in front of me and got off the bus as quickly as I could.”
I was relieved; I didn’t want Paul to have seen the boy’s face. I bet it had been Greg, and Paul would recognise his face. Paul may then have started to wonder, and that was somewhere I didn’t need my husband to go.
I was relieved that I had rebuffed Greg earlier; my fanny had been empty when Paul got home, not full of someone else’s spunk. That would have taken some explaining. But, if it was Greg, I wish he had kept it to himself.
We were in bed when Mik got home. I was lying on my back with my eyes closed when I heard the front door open and then close.
In the morning I stayed lying in bed with my eyes closed. I had torrid dreams during the night about Greg and Paul catching us at it, and then Paul and Greg both shagging me at the same time. I had woken up with a sopping fanny. Both Paul and Mik would be out at work; I would go in the shower when the house was empty. Until then, I decided I would keep myself to myself.
Finally, the house was empty. There was a wet patch in the bed where I had leaked. I sprayed it with Febreze and left the bed open to dry. I would change the sheets later in the week. I turned the shower on and stood under the water, letting it cascade over me, soaking my hair as well as my body. After a few minutes, I took the flexible hose and unscrewed the rose. I turned the water pressure down and smeared gel around the end of the hose.
I parted my legs and crouched a little and carefully pushed the hose into my fanny, gasping at the sensation inside me. I let the water run for a few minutes, almost revelling as the water filled and poured out of my fanny. It didn’t feel quite like a dick, but it sure felt like something. I removed the hose and let the water play over my clitoris, my pressures rising and my pleasures flowing. I had a moment, not a big one, but a moment nonetheless.
Feeling buzzed, I got out of the shower and patted myself dry with a towel. I slipped a dress on; I didn’t bother with underwear. If anyone came to the door, I would at least look decent. I went downstairs; the robovac had finished, and my phone had a message from it saying that the dust bag was full. I pulled the dust bag out, and, using tweezers, I pulled out the tangled dust and emptied it into the bin. The bags are only a few pounds each, but every one I can reuse is a few pounds saved.
I had just finished and washed my hands when the front doorbell rang. Drying my hands, I went and opened the door. It was Greg and another of Mik’s mates, Ralph. Oh well, I guess that with two of them, Greg wouldn’t try anything.
“Hello, Mrs M. How are you?” I was just about to answer when the heavens opened, and the rain came down in torrents.
“Goodness, boys, quick; you had better come in before you get soaked.”
I didn’t think that even Greg could conjure up a timely rainstorm; I doubted that there was an ulterior motive. Probably wanted Mik and had forgotten that he was at work. Mik doesn’t work every day some weeks, and so I guessed the confusion was easy.
“Would you like a cup of tea, lads?” I asked them; it was only polite after all.
“Oh, yes, please,” Ralph said, and Greg chimed in with a ‘please’.
I turned and headed to the kitchen to fill the kettle. I could hear the boys talking in whispers as they followed me. I wondered what it was. I flipped the top of the kettle up and filled it from the tap before putting it on the stand to boil. I turned quickly to the mug tree, and as I turned, I realised my dress had flared up. Oh gosh, that’s all I needed, giving the boys a flash of my knickers.
I then remembered that I wasn’t wearing knickers; oh golly gum sticks, that wasn’t good. I tried to pretend it hadn’t happened, but as I turned, I caught sight of the boys’ faces, both red and ruddy. They hadn’t missed my faux pas. Greg came and stood close to me, very close. His hand reached forward and touched my cheek. I gulped and swallowed. I had a funny feeling between my legs, ‘that’ funny feeling.
“I was hoping that you would be free this morning, Mrs M,” he said. “I told Ralph just how nice you were, you know, accommodating, making me all welcome and all.” His finger dragged across my mouth; I gasped, and his finger slipped between my lips. I kissed his finger. I don’t know why; my mouth did it on autopilot.
“Oh,” I sighed; my heart was beating so fast. I felt Greg’s hand touch my leg, and then he was pulling the hem of my dress upwards, and as I felt the air on my crotch, I knew that he had exposed me. His finger touched me and slid between the folds of my sex. Oh god, I was so wet; his fingers slid through me as if I were as slippery as ice. Only I wasn’t like ice; oh no.
“You are so hot, Mrs M,” he said as his finger pressed at my entrance, slipping through my opening, and then pressing at my depth, lifting me onto the tips of my toes.
“Oh Greg, you shouldn’t do that,” I gasped as he pushed me back against my kitchen cupboards. Ralph came across, his finger in my crease, sliding up to my nubbin, touching me, flicking it like a bean.
“Oh,” I gasped, “Oh.”
“Should we go upstairs?” Greg asked. “I think that you would like that, wouldn’t you, Mrs M?”
“I haven’t made the bed,” I gasped.
“Well, that is okay, Mrs M; it saves you making it twice.”
Greg eased his finger from my fanny, and I dropped back down from the tips of my toes. Greg took his finger and wiped it across my mouth, pressing in. I tasted myself on my tongue; I knew my own flavour. Greg turned me around and gently pushed me to the kitchen door and then to the stairs. Slowly I climbed up to my bedroom, knowing that they would follow, knowing what they wanted but not how it would progress. I assumed that they would take turns.
In my bedroom I stood in front of the bed and turned to look at them. They were both pulling their clothes off, and soon there were two piles of clothes on the floor and two very hard-looking dicks pointing at me. Greg walked past me and lay on the bed, his dick in his hand, his hand moving slowly up and down, his foreskin sliding back to reveal his glans.
“Take your dress off, Mrs M, and come and join me,” Greg said, his hand beginning to move faster.
I pulled my dress over my head and let it fall to the floor. I knew what he wanted and what he wanted me to do; I was just a slave to him. I climbed on the bed and straddled him. I slowly lowered myself. I was wet; I knew that there would be no difficulty.
He used his hand to line his dick up as I lowered, and he was inside me, stretching my fanny wide open. I leant forwards, my boobs draped on his chest, my eyes on his, wondering if Ralph was enjoying the view, thinking that he might get too excited and spurt before he wanted his turn.
I felt the bed move, and Ralph was behind me, between Greg’s legs. His arms snaked down, supporting his weight, and then I felt his dick between my buttocks. He lifted a hand, and I heard him spit on his fingers, and then he wiped them around my crinkle. Oh God, really?
I felt the pressure as his dick pushed at my arse, unrelenting, and slowly his dick began to enter. Oh God, it hurt as he forced his way through my sphincter, and then the pain was gone, and all I had was a feeling of being full, very full.
“Fuck her, Ralph, I can feel your dick on mine,” Greg gasped.
As Ralph sawed in and out of my arse, I suddenly came out of the daze I was in. What was I doing? I was allowing two nineteen-year-olds to use me as if I were a five-pound street girl. Just as reality was dawning, Greg flexed his dick inside my fanny, and I gasped. Oh, goodness, really? Oh, that was different. I had the sensation of movement from Ralph on my sphincter, the feeling of being filled by Ralph, and then his little dick jiggle gave a whole new perspective.
I gasped again, and I began to get with it. I couldn’t really add much; I was pretty much trapped between the two boys who were using my body. I couldn’t rock back and forth as I would normally do; Ralph was in the way for that. I tried flexing my fanny muscles, and Greg groaned aloud.
“Oh, God, Mrs M,” he gasped. “Yes, you are really getting into it; I knew that you would.”
Greg started to try and move a little, his dick flexing and moving just a little, but still it was mostly Ralph. I could feel Ralph’s dick on my fanny wall through my arse, with Greg’s dick pushing back. My pressures were building, and my pleasures were flowing.
Greg reached up and started to squeeze my boobs, pulling my nipples. I am not normally aroused by my boobs, but this was different. I could feel electricity flowing from my nipples to my clitoris, and I gasped loudly. My body began to clamp, squeezing both dicks inside me as my moment approached.
“God, yes,” I gasped, and then I shrieked and screamed, my fanny clamping hard on their dicks, my fanny trying to close, my sphincter trying to repel boarders. My back tightened, and I arched back into Ralph, and then it was gone. I was like Jelly; I could hardly hold myself up. I felt Ralph ease out of my arse and kneel back away. Greg began to flex inside me, shagging me, but I was pretty much just a piece of meat. I could not react; my orgasm had drained me for the moment.
“Mrs M, move away and kneel beside me,” Greg said.
I lifted, and his dick fell from me with an erotic gurgle. I could feel that my arse was still gaping; I wondered if it was just a big red hole. Greg moved and knelt behind me. I wondered if he was going to go in my gape, where Ralph had been.
No. His dick went back into my fanny, pressing in hard, reaching my depth. He began to move in and out, his stomach slapping hard against my buttocks, the cracks echoing around the room. Ralph moved on the bed and knelt in front of me, his dick pressing at my mouth.
I opened my mouth as much as I could, and Ralph penetrated over my tongue, passing my tonsils and through my throat. He began to move faster and faster, shagging my throat as Greg shagged my fanny. My boobs swayed beneath me, neither boy paying them much regard. I struggled for breath, Ralph’s dick filling my throat as he pressed in; I was only able to grab small gulps of air. I began to feel a little faint; my large orgasm and now the restricted air were taking their toll.
“Oh God, Mrs M, here it comes,” Ralph almost shouted, and he pushed in hard and held still as he blocked my breath.
He shot his spunk down towards my stomach, a strange feeling inside me somewhere behind my boobs. He rocked a few times and then pulled back; I gasped and gulped in air, almost coughing as his dick lay on my tongue.
Greg was still shagging hard behind me, my body swaying under the assault. I could feel my fanny tightening again, my pressures almost overflowing and my pleasures coursing around my body. Ralph pulled out, my mouth finally free, my throat a little sore.
“Shit, yes,” Greg gasped and pressed in hard, holding still, and as his dick filled my fanny with spunk, my second orgasm erupted, my back arching, my fanny squeezing him, and my shriek reverberating round the room as I squirted and sprayed the bedding.
Greg eased back, and my fanny was empty. Finally, I was empty, with no dicks inside me. My chest was heaving as I tried to recover my composure. The boys were getting dressed, and I realised that they were taking photos of me with their phones. Oh, God, I hoped that they didn’t share them.
“Thanks for having us, Mrs M,” Greg said. “We’ll see ourselves out.”
The boys left, and I heard them go downstairs, and the letterbox clattered as they pulled the front door shut behind them. I fell down onto the mattress. Eurgh, it needed more than Febreze.
