A Long Time Coming Pt. 01 - Sex Stories

A Long Time Coming Pt. 01

'Morning,' I chimed.

'Oh...morning,' she stuttered, as she stood in the doorway, hastily tying up the front of her dressing gown. 'You're early.'

It was a good look on her - the figure-hugging blue satin. And being flustered.

'I hope I didn't disturb you?' I said, smiling.

She smiled back, running her fingers through her hair. 'Oh, no. I've just been lounging about, watching the telly.'

I stared at the front of her gown and watched a solitary bead of sweat meander down the middle her long, fabulously flushed cleavage. Fuck, she looked hot - in every sense of the word. How I'd love to dive in there and lose myself amongst all that delicious, soft flesh.

If only.

'Will you do me a favour, Andy?' She said, intercepting my gaze with a knowing smile and stepping back from the door. 'Will you have a look at the light in the living room? I think one of the bulbs has gone.'

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

'Of course. No problem,' I replied. 'Lead the way.' And I followed her down the hallway gazing at her broad, tightly clad arse.

Another place I'd love to get lost in. Her ass, that is, not the hallway.

Fuck me, I had it bad today.

I've known Dorothy for at least twenty-five years, you see, and worked for her for the best part of the last twenty. And though I've never let on, I can say without fear of contradiction that I've fancied that tightly clad arse off her the entire time.

I've seen her bury a husband (no loss - a ...

... complete cunt), a daughter (a crying shame - a lovely woman), and a dog (as daft as a brush and, strictly speaking, I buried him). But, rather than contempt, this familiarity with her and her life has, in fact, bred a desire. A very real, extremely visceral desire.

Go figure, eh?

So much for all this 'having a type' bollocks.

'I think it's that one,' she said, pointing up to one of the bulbs in the light fitting above us.

I looked up, still distracted.

The room had a distinctive smell about it: a warm, sweet, musky sort of smell that made the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I glanced at her and then over her shoulder at the settee where a crumpled white bath towel was spread out over the seat cushions.

'What do you think then?'

Hmm, you probably don't want to know.

'I tell you what,' I said, looking at a particularly eye-catching stretch of her damp cleavage. 'You fetch me a spare bulb and I'll go and get the stool from the garage and we'll see what's what, shall we?'

She smiled and nodded and off we went.

When I returned with the stool, she was already waiting for me under the light, spare bulb in hand.

I smiled again. The front of her gown had slipped open a little further revealing more of the soft expanse of her breasts and a tantalising slither of her pale belly.

'Right,' I said, stepping up onto the stool, 'let the dog see the rabbit then.'

On inspection, the bulb had indeed 'gone', so I unscrewed it and went to hand it down to ...