Chapter 11

The door opened and Mrs D walked in. “Good morning, Jason,” she greeted in her perfect English with a strange accent.

“Good morning, Mrs D,” I answered.

“I see that you are not quite ready for us.” She said, looking me up and down. I was wearing a dressing gown. Just a dressing gown, nothing more. I thought that was pretty ready; I could only have bettered it by being naked on my bed. I undid the tie and opened the gown. My erection showed her just how ready I was.

She turned and dropped the latch, locking the front door. “Well, shall we begin?” She asked and slipped her shoes off and went upstairs. I followed, and we went into my bedroom, the bed unmade, as it was due to be relaundered by Mrs D. In the bedroom she pulled her top up and off and her slacks down. Since our first session, she no longer bothered with matching underwear; today was just a soft bra and flower-patterned knickers. I had, of course, showered earlier; well, it was only polite to be clean.

She walked to me and knelt before me; looking up at me, she moved forward and sucked my dick into her mouth, her hands holding and rolling my balls, her eyes fixated on mine. I kept my hands on my side; there was no way I was going to hold her head as she mouth-fucked me. That was just too porn. I wondered if she could tell I had masturbated in the shower? I hoped not; I had woken up horny and did not want to waste my time with Mrs D, so I had seen to it that I would last a little longer with her, rather than erupt at the first touch.

Her hand had pulled my foreskin fully back, and her tongue lapped around my dickhead rim as she applied suction with her mouth. Her lips felt hot and wet on my shaft, and I knew that I would have spurted by now if I hadn’t taken precautions. Just what Mrs D would have wanted, of course. The less time she spent with me, the more her time was free. The agreement was supposedly for an hour, but recently we had rarely gone beyond forty minutes or so. Today I thought I might try and get the full hour.

Her head started bobbing back and forth, her tongue now licking, and as she grazed against the sensitive spot where my foreskin is attached, it was all I could do to control myself and not react. If she had known how that felt, how that lick almost made my spurt, then she would have concentrated her efforts there, and I would have been defeated.

She pulled back, giving me relief and a chance to recoup. I helped her up and turned her to the bed and pushed lightly so that she lay back. My turn. I knelt between her legs, my shoulders pressing to widen them as much as possible. She was very petite, so every inch made a difference, and I blew on her fanny crease. Starting at the bottom, near her fanny entrance, I blew up her crease to where her nubbin lay hidden under its hood. She shivered.

I eased her petals apart, her valley crimson and glistening with her arousal. I was pleased that she fully joined in; that was pleasure for her, not just a working woman earning a crust. I wondered if in actuality the whole thing had just been a scam to get me into bed. I eased my nose along her valley, sliding along easily with her arousal, and as my nose pressed at her clitoral hood, I pressed two fingers inside, slowly, pushing, fingers straight, knuckle by knuckle until they were fully immersed inside her.

Using my teeth I eased her hood back and nibbled at her nubbin, gripping, tugging, releasing and then licking. She held her breath. I opened my fingers inside her, widening her fanny, feeling the ridges of her fanny wall, and as I wiggled my fingers, I licked her nubbin once more and then sucked and released. Licked, sucked, released. Her hands were clutching at the bedsheet, fingers curled, knuckles white, and as I looked up, her mouth was open, her breath just small gasps.