The Summerhouse - Anne's Story - Sex Stories

The Summerhouse - Anne's Story

As my husband Bill wrote, it all began with a chance remark. At least, that was what we thought at the time. I found out later that my friend Ellen had planned it from the start; it just went a little further than she intended. I am certain she didn't expect me to be the mother of her first grandchild. Reading my husband's description of that night so long ago, when I seduced Oliver, has brought it all back to me as if it were yesterday. It makes me feel all young and girlish again, just the way I felt when Oliver bent down to kiss me for the first time. Mind you, in his account I am inclined to think that Bill gave away too many of our secrets. I am still not sure that our daughter Eleanor would really want everyone to know who her real father is, although that is not to say that Bill has not been a proper father to her too. That would be unfair, because he has loved her as much as our other two daughters, Gemma and Nicola. But Eleanor is nineteen now and a grown woman, and she has said that she is quite happy with Bill's account of our rather unusual family arrangements. As you must have guessed, I am Anne. I am no longer the young girl whom Bill married, or even the early middle-aged woman who took Oliver as her lover. I am now a pensioner, and I am soon to become a grandmother for the first time. I think I still look pretty good for my age, and I pay great attention to my appearance, just as I always have. Of course my figure has filled out, and my boobs have sagged a ...

... bit, but my husband and lovers tell me that I am not fat, but voluptuous, and they certainly seem to enjoy playing with all my soft and private parts! Thinking about that night again is making me very horny. I am becoming very wet between my legs, and I will probably have to do something about that, but first of all I want to tell you more about what happened the following week when we went round to Ellen and David's to help Oliver pack. However, my favourite vibrator is here on the bed beside me, and you will have to forgive me if I break off from telling my story from time to time. When I met Bill I was only nineteen, and still a virgin. This was not because I had avoided sex, and I had been felt up by a number of boys of my own age at the parties I went to during the school holidays. I had even given some of them an orgasm with my hand, or less often, allowed them to cum in my mouth. On the whole, however, these had been unsatisfactory affairs, and I had rarely achieved orgasm myself, mainly because the boys involved were generally clumsy and inexperienced, and concerned only with their own gratification. I did masturbate to orgasm regularly, whilst imagining that I was being made love to by a handsome man, usually someone popular and dreamy like Robert Redford or Tom Jones. I had also had a few crushes on other girls at the all-girls boarding school I attended until I was eighteen. We slept in single beds in dormitories of half a dozen girls, but if we were very careful it ...