Recuperating at home after a traumatic event which had laid me sort of bed bound, which my wife Corinne and I loosely translated from hospital speak to mean bed rest. I was happily catching up on catchup TV some sports events and some not so sporting programmes like Naked Attraction, which luckily for me, and because my wife wouldn’t watch them, were on late night schedules. The lounge was my domain for about three days, and with complete disregard for tidiness and what would the neighbours and guests think in Corinne’s words, was littered with a bottle of Hendricks Gin, slices of cucumber and handy access to the freezer through to the kitchen for ice, a box of tissues, library books, newspapers, empty coffee cups and general household detritus.

My drinking buddies called in regularly, bemoaning the fact I wasn’t going to the pub nearby for a our pints and old gits chat to put the world to right on a weekly routine. That time would return, they and I knew, but for a week or so rest and in my case, be lazy was the order of every day. “Hi Del,” a female voice shouted from the front door which I knew Corinne had opened as she was just leaving to attend a meeting for the afternoon at a village hall, some fifty miles away and carrying bundles of files down from her office upstairs. She was treasurer of the committee. “Is that you sweetie?” was my usual greeting to the various female friends and acquaintances we shared in various sport and other activities. I hadn’t a clue who was calling. Obviously not for Corinne and my wife answered from halfway down the stairs.

“Hi Denise, he’s in the lounge – as usual these days,” came the jokey reply, which I sort of resented as if she was implying I was forever in the front room and being lazy. I do my bit! Denise bustled through, I was already on a high, as the woman in her mid fifties is a lovely natured nurse at the hospital where I had been sorted recently and while she’s on the maternity wards, she always found time to pop in and see me in the orthopaedic department. To see Denise in full flow, marching into the ward, full matron’s uniform like Hattie Jacques without her enormity in body but with and this is a big with ... a magnificent bosom, was a wondrous vision. Denise is only about five feet four, yes - wide motherly hips, but slim shapely legs and ankles. Her and her husband Brian are also friends of ours via a group we belong to and have various one day meets in set venues or weekends away. All based on our love of classic cars and in just the three of us knowledge, Corinne in the dark, I’d loaned him a lump of cash to get them out of a hole.

My wife went off for the day leaving me odds and sods of minor easy chores and some snack stuff for lunch. Denise’s smart dark, semi fitted, blue, front buttoned patterned blouse over a navy blue, knee length, pencil skirt, nylon clad legs and two inch heeled court shoes was mature taste personified. Her fair hair was part grey flecked, shoulder length and casually curled. She stopped to kiss me and put some fruit on the table. “I was just about to take my medication nurse,” I giggled, holding up a box that contained 5 different pills, starting to rise from the chair. “All I need is to refill this glass of water I forgot.” “Sit down you daft bugger, let me do it for you,” she chortled, grabbing the box, patting my shoulder and trotting off to the kitchen. On the way, she called out. “I’ve got a pressie for you darling, you’ve been so kind to us.” When she arrived back with a glass of water and the box and sat opposite, I was mystified and told her. The darling term was a norm between the ladies of the group and us men, so that didn’t need any questioning or puzzlement.

“I know you and Brian are always ogling the girls at the shows. He tells me all about it, like you do with Cori...” “No for Christs sake, I don’t tell Corinne.” I strongly interrupted. “ She can be a bit stony about that sort of thing, I just keep it to myself ... and Brian of course,” I snickered. “OK if that’s her thing, well Bri tells me what you mention about me, these for example.” With that she thrust out her bosom and cupped her tits in true showgirl fashion. My eyebrows shot up. There was a sign of lace at her cleavage, but I detected a stout brassiere beneath. Now Denise is not a stunning lady looks wise, fairly plain, slightly flat chubby nose, weather beaten features, but nice eyes and a slim smile, not a lot of teeth shown. She doesn’t wear a lot of make-up either. But as a package – there’s no doubt I would! Know what I mean?

“Must admit they are a smashing pair Denise,” I giggled. “What I’ve sort of seen, you know.” “You ain’t seen nothing sunshine, give me a minute.” She remained standing and turned away from me after placing the water on a table nearby. She put my pill box on the mantle piece and I could see her hands and arms adjusting or doing something at her front. The blue patterned blouse remained on her shoulders but fell to her sides beneath her armpits. Denise fiddled more at the front and I saw a slightly bulkier piece of a garment budge away the blouse. She fiddled some more and then opened the box, removing some of the pills – I think – then concentrated quietly, I could only see her face in the mirror and then she turned to face me. “Ta daaaa!” she exclaimed theatrically.

Bare sumptuous bosoms were held up and together with her hands, the massive dark brown nipples pointing at me like missiles. Oh how I’d love to be speared by them. She neared me and stooped slightly lower until I could make out what the pride on her face was illustrating. Along the five inches of a tight crease between her mammoth tits, were all five of my pills. She told me to take the glass of water and shuffle forward in my chair. I got the message – but I hadn’t, reaching for them. “No no Del, you have to take them individually, one by one, not using your hands,” Denise chortled fruitily. I grinned cheerfully up at her, with a glance of disbelief and getting a smiley nod in return. I leaned further forward. My chin rolled on her tits and I managed to scoop the first pill up with my tongue, popped it down my gullet and swallowed using the water. The second on, similar in shape, size and colour, dull orange and bulky discus shaped went the same way. The third was more difficult being a long narrow dome edge white and yellow bullet, with a slippery surface where the previous two had a texture.

I budged further forward, glimpsing her delighted happy to be of service expression as she stooped and made more of her pale, delicately blue veined mammary tissue comfort my chin and cheeks. She cooed encouragement as I struggled with the fourth pill, a smaller, white blunt discus shaped jobby but with judicious and prolonged use of my tongue and Denise’s skilful manipulation of her knockers I secured it and downed it.

My visitor stood and arched her back, grunting from the bending effort, but still holding her boobs clamped. “This one is going to take more effort on both parts Del,” she advised me as I gazed at the magnificent sight of her robust, soft torso bulging over the top of her waistband. “Get up and let me lay on that chair.” She hustled her tits into position and sprawled back, nearly flat in the seat of the big chair. She let her supernumery baps flop loose, not letting them drop too much sideways, by her upper arms at her side. “Now there you go matey, the last one is still there,” she chuckled peering down over her nose to the flat expanse of damp, hot flesh between her boobs. The final medication was the smallest of the lot, she’d planned this carefully, white and tiny. I had dropped and searched on the kitchen floor several times, having dropped one. “It hasn’t melted yet.” Kneeling close to her thigh, I leaned over. The pill was clear to see - very white, in the peaches and cream tones over her chest bone. I deliberately brushed my face over the near breast, then licked upwards about two inches until I sucked the pill and swallowed it after throwing my head back. Denise snickered and started to rise but I decided one last little thrill for myself. It wasn’t so little. The stub of her nipple stood some half inch high, maybe nearly as wide, chocolate brown in colour, like a mini volcano that had spewed myriads of rocks, some settling on the vast expanse of her knotty areolae. I tasted Denise’s perfume and sweat in one suck and nibble with my lip shrouded teeth until she gently pushed me away.

“Enough Del, that’s your lot,” she murmured. “Easy boy.” I let her stand and took her place, to watch her adjust her clothing, having caught a glimpse of her stocking tops and skin as she wriggled up. The marvellous way she had of getting both mammaries placed correctly and comfortably in her dark blue, front fastening bra was a joy to watch. She buttoned up her blouse, smoothed her skirt down and treated me with a finale of raising her skirt hem and straightening her tan stockings in the time honoured stripper fashion.

“Fairs fair Denise, if that’s saying thanks. Bri’s a lucky lucky man.” I snickered, plomping back into the chair. We enjoyed a cup of tea and a giggle and Denise left.

Tony and Frances arrived at the agreed rendezvous, our enormous American 6 wheeler, with slide-outs and the main unit, a Toyota Land Cruiser already parked by Corinne to exit the large camping site. We hadn’t seen them for about 6 months and this was the start of the season when we, with them and many others would meet at a pre booked place to have a few days of fun. We had commented on their new appearance when they exited their Ford, they had lost weight

“Hello buddy and Fran,” I greeted them, the usual handshakes and double kisses ensued as we showed them round our new acquisition, the 6 wheeler. Cups of coffee and tea were consumed with lots of news, but Tony was due for a committee meeting in Oxford, taking Corinne as his backup, she was the treasurer, leaving Frances and I to while away the rest of the day, she refusing their offer to drop her in WestWay Shopping Mall. They had not long returned from three months touring the continent with their caravan and she confessed to being shopped out. They weren’t short of a bob or two.

“My look at you,” I chuckled, after Tony and Corinne had driven off, my wife showing her prowess at driving the Beast as her and I called the huge Toyota. I held out my arms in a gesture of surprise and amazement at Frances who had followed me into the kitchen to help clean the mugs and cups. “You’ve both shed pounds yes?” “Yes we’ve worked hard, not easy with travelling abroad but Tony and I are quite proud,” she giggled. Frances is the most attractive of three acquaintances of Corinne and I, the females of course, we see a lot of in limited but hilarious meetings. She’s a retired primary school teacher, keen walker and art lover and has no problem with dirty, ribald jokes or tales. Her hair is tight but full headed, salt and pepper in colour, close to her brows, but ever so neat at all times. There is a slight overbite in her attractive pouty mouth.

To this day I’ve never seen her in a skirt, or shorts for that matter, always elegant tailored slacks, beautifully fitted to her shapely rump which has born three children. Jeans yes, but never faded or washed out, always slim and finely creased. Again a VPL on Frances is unseen, so does she go commando or wear thongs. I know she is sixty four, but well preserved was written for her. She wanted to view the truck again, with Tony and Corinne’s interjections and asides about the size of the beds, the his and hers wash rooms, Corinne and my purpose built specs and the American gadgetry.

“Nice view,” she chuckled. I turned from folding back the wardrobe doors to see her gazing and pointing through a window. I joined her alongside, to see a MILF in a very short, one piece light grey dress, broom sweeping the porch of a rental cabin across the way. The woman who I had guessed after a few days in the camping vicinity was about mid thirties, had two children and was not very attractive with a tiny flat nose, heavily jowled face, hooded eyes and light almost falling out, poor quality fair hair, was stooping and bending to clean in awkward places. The expanse of long legged tanned legs was exposed all the way and past her crotch. Frances had obviously spotted the woman, Jodie as I knew her name, in full bend and she was, as always wearing a thong, a bright red thong, scarcely visible between her firm cheeks. I had ogled and wanked to this scene many times. I murmured a jokey agreement and strolled from the bedroom back to the lounge area.