George and Elsie
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Cheating, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Voyeurism, Size,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jane knew right away that she was going to like her new neighbour Elsie; and she was intrigued by Elsie's husband George. He was so laid-back, so different from Tom...
Jane knew she was going to be friends with Elsie from that first morning when Elsie had knocked on her door to let her know she and George were moving into the flat across the landing.
And Tom had liked her too, and he got on well with George, although at 51 George was old enough to be Tom's father. He was, they had thought, a bit older than Elsie.
'Not what you would call good looking', Jane had mused after the pair of them had left that afternoon after a coffee-break in her kitchen, 'not with his rather big nose and his nearly bald head. But he's nice enough. He's interesting!' 'Yes', Jane had thought, 'he's interesting, all right! He gives me goose-pimples.But I'm not sure why?' And then she had felt guilty as she wondered what Tom would say if he knew that she had had such thoughts.
George wasn't that tall and his wide shoulders and leanness made him look smaller than he actually was. On the second occasion they met, this time, for a drink in Elsie and George's - Tom had had to explain that they were both teetotallers and Jane had wished that he had bent a bit and allowed a glass of wine - Jane found herself fascinated by his hands. Big they were, with long thick fingers. And his voice too, intrigued her. She could have listened to George all day. Not that he spoke a lot. In fact he was so soft spoken and quiet,
'Sometimes you forget he's there', Jane thought later, ' we all talk and laugh and then you look over and he's just sitting there looking at us with those big grey-green eyes and that hint of a smile.'
Jane found herself thinking a lot about George.
Elsie was so different. If he was quiet - which he was - she made up for him. Elsie could chatter all day long. And she had such a sense of humour. Always smiling and joking. Always with a story to tell. They complemented each other, Jane thought. George so quiet and calm, and her always chattering and laughing - and always touching him.
Jane noticed that, very soon after she and Tom started to spend time in their company. Elsie would rest her hand on George's thigh, in a kind of proprietorial way, as she bubbled away in conversation beside him. Or she would touch his hand or move against him. She seemed to be completely unaware of doing these things - they just seemed to happen whenever she was near him.
Once, in Tom and Jane's home when the four of them were sitting chatting and having a laugh together - George and Elsie had had a good deal of wine - and Elsie was talking in her usual animated way, she and Tom got into a head-to-head discussion.
As they rabbited on together, Jane had become aware of Elsie's hand resting, palm down, high up on George's thigh. The lighting in the room was turned down at the time but Jane could swear that she could see a large bulge in George's trousers as Elsie's hand slowly caressed his trouser leg, just there.
How long she looked she didn't know. She was held by the sight of the lump that seemed to move - or was it a trick of the light - under Elsie's hand. Until all at once she became aware that she had been staring for some time, and when she looked up she met George's eyes. Normally Jane would have been hugely embarrassed but those remarkable eyes of his did something to her, and that calm sort-of-serenity he gave out, it just seemed to soak all her confusion up and she found herself smiling back at him.
It was as if he was saying, 'Good! Isn't it' And later she had wondered why she and Tom didn't have that kind of easy way with each other. And she had felt rather envious...
... Jane stopped work on the book illustration and sat there at her desk, her chin resting on her cupped hands, elbows taking her weight on the desk, as she remembered the sense of wonder she'd felt as she had watched Elsie caressing George that time. And now, months later, she puzzled as to why she had felt that way.
She got up to put the kettle on and found herself thinking of some of the risque jokes Elsie had told. She herself had been embarrassed at first, feeling she ought to tell Elsie that she was a member of the local church - but she hadn't and instead she had found herself laughing at them.
But she had warned Elsie that Tom was very strait-laced and rather prudish. 'He's an elder in our church, Elsie' and Jane had added somewhat proudly 'he's the youngest elder we've ever had. But he's a bit old-fashioned about that sort of thing.'
And even as she said that, she had felt that the things she listened to with Elsie allowed her a life apart from the one she had with Tom. A separate life. And one she enjoyed having.
Elsie had smiled wickedly that time with the twinkle that always seemed to be in her eyes. She had leaned close to Jane and whispered in her ear, 'Bet he's not so prudish when he's poking your fire every night, my love. He'll not be so strait-laced then, I'll bet you. He'll be straight enough though, I'll be bound!' and she had made a gesture, holding her forearm vertical with her fist clenched.
Jane remembered how she had blushed and remonstrated with her but then had joined in her laughter. You couldn't fall out with Elsie. She was so... so... lovable. Jane laughed now to herself at the suggestion that Tom would 'poke her fire' every night. Even then, a year into their marriage, they had made love only on Saturday nights and sometimes on a Sunday morning - although Tom was never too keen on doing it on a Sunday.
'I don't think it's right on the the Lord's Day before going to God's house', was what he used to say...
'And I always feel so guilty', Jane reflected as she walked into the kitchen and put on the kettle for coffee, 'because I want to feel him inside me. And I want to have the memory of it when I'm sitting in my seat in church pretending to be listening to Reverend Peters.'
'And now it's about once a fortnight.' Jane thought. ' I wish he would show more interest in me. I'm not that unattractive.' She switched on the kettle and walked through into the bathroom. In the full length mirror she looked at herself.
'Even in this old tee-shirt and jeans I'm not bad looking', Jane mused as she twisted sideways and admired her small shapely bottom. She patted it appreciatively, then, in an impulsive move, she pulled her tee shirt over her head and looked at her naked breasts in the mirror. 'They're quite small', she thought ruefully as she viewed the pert pear-shaped white globes with their prominent pink nipples. 'Men like big boobs. Maybe that's why Tom isn't excited by me. Maybe if I had breasts like Elsie he would 'poke my fire every night!' She smiled at her image as she thought of Elsie.
' I wonder if George finds me attractive?' she mused. And then felt guilty. For it was not the first time she had had such a thought.
While Jane at five feet-four in her bare feet had a slim, almost boyish, figure and looked even more boyish with her short pageboy haircut, Elsie, at roughly the same height, had what she herself described as 'a fulsome figure'. At 43 though, she was still a most attractive woman, if a bit on the plump side.
'I'll not deny it' she had said to Jane one sunny afternoon when they were taking in the washing from the communal drying green at the back of their block of flats, 'I've got big tits'
Elsie had just picked up one of her own bras that had fallen off the line and had held it up for Jane to see. Jane had blushed with embarrassment, glancing round the empty garden to see if they were being overheard.
'And', Elsie had continued, brandishing a pair of blue silk knickers, 'I've got a bum a man would die for! That's what my George says. 'A bum to die for'. And he should know he's banged into it enough, he has!'
'Elsie!' Jane had pleaded, her face like a beetroot, 'You mustn't say things like that.'
Elsie had just laughed and in that warm way she had with her, she had flung her arms round Jane and hugged the younger woman to her. 'Ee, Jane, you are so lovely and so shy about such things. We're friends you and me. We're both married.' And she had smacked Jane's bottom playfully. ' And I'll bet your Tom shags that lovely little arse off you every night.'
'Elsie!' Jane had pushed herself free and stood now, confused and embarrassed and upset. 'That's enough. You mustn't say such things about Tom and me.' And she had burst into tears and fled the garden.
Half-an-hour later after a good cry she had knocked on Elsie's door. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry', she had wailed. And Elsie had gathered her into her arms and held her tight, drawing her into the hall and closing the door.