Peter, Paul and Mary - Sex Stories

Peter, Paul and Mary

... me," Paul said as he turned his tablet off and stood. "I will just go and shower, then I will be out from under your feet."

'It's not my feet I want you to be under sweetheart' I thought as I watched him leave the kitchen and head off upstairs. 'He still has a nice bum' I mused. Goodness I was still feeling horny.

I went up and changed, shouting to Peter through his bedroom door that he needed get ready as I wanted to go sooner rather than later. Bra and then a sweater, panties and leggings, yes, decent and warm enough for a spring day.

"Come on Peter," I called as I went downstairs and checked I had my purse and keys in my bag. Peter appeared and sauntered down the stairs as if there were no urgency anywhere in the world.

"Bye Paul," I called, we are off now."

"Bye love, see you later, I shall be home around five."

"Come on Peter, let's get off." I opened the front door and ushered him through, blipping the car unlocked as I followed. It was a short journey around the ring road and through a couple of villages and then we were there.

It was a strange place, not just a shop that sold their own produce, but a fully commercial set up. They had their own abattoir and meat processing centre. They also washed and graded their own fruit and vegetables. It was quite a large concern. Luckily the retail side was quite empty, and we parked close to the door.

"Let me know if you fancy anything in particular Peter," I said as we walked inside. Rows of chillers ...

... full of produce, and then a large glassed counter with all variations of meat stacked up.

I ordered some Cumberland sausage rings, Middle bacon, sirloin steaks, pork ribs and a big chicken that I thought would do us a good Sunday lunch.

"I'll have some Jerky mum please," Peter said. I don't know how he can eat it, I tried it and it does nothing for me, just chewy and leathery.

As I loaded the meats into the boot of the car, bending forward to get into the back corner, Peter stood behind me, not helping of course, just watching. "You could have got in the car Peter," I said, "rather than just stand there gawking." He didn't say anything, nor did he move. Boys.

He was quiet in the car on the way home, no moans, so typical of a teenage boy, or quips, nothing, he just sat there, slightly sideways. Every time I glanced across at him he was looking at me. I did feel a little uncomfortable as I drove, I had slid on the seat and my leggings were pulled up into my crotch, I couldn't really grab them and pull them out, not in traffic, and not with Peter sat there. I just mentally chided myself and suffered in silence.

When we got home, Peter again just stood behind me as I emptied the shopping from the boot. "Get the keys and open the front door Peter, come on, make yourself useful" I said, "The keys are in my bag."

He walked up and rummaged through my handbag and found the keys, bumping into me as he did so. Oh dear, was he thinking about a girl I wondered. I was pretty ...