At the Beach with Mrs. Winslow

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Summer was fading, with the temperature cooling early into nightfall and the sea taking till mid-afternoon to warm sufficiently to really appeal to swimmers.

This prelude to autumn was Luke Green’s favourite time of the year.

Right now, Luke was in paradise, alone in the family beach house with his parents and two sisters in Sydney for the weekend to attend a rock concert.

Rock, ugh!

Personally, he wouldn’t cross the street to attend a rock concert, which was the reason why he hadn’t crossed the Tasman Sea with the family.

The telephone rang.

Luke rolled off his slumber bed on the deck, landing on to his feet in a crouch as he went over the side. Rising, he jogged to the phone.

“This is Luke.”

The caller was Mrs Winslow, one of his mother’s friends. She was the cute one, much younger than all of the others. She said she was calling to check that he was doing okay and eating properly.

“Mum only flew out this morning.”

Oh, really, Mrs Winslow had replied, sounding rather vague. What had he cooked for dinner?

She had sounded very upset when told Luke hadn’t felt hungry, so he’d just had a beer and a packet of chocolate biscuits. Right, she was on her way to cook him a proper dinner, adding that a young man of nineteen needed to look after his body.

“Okay, please yourself. But it’s a long way to come just to feed me.”

Oh, that hadn’t occurred to her, she said. Perhaps she could stay the night as her husband was attending a medical conference in Queenstown until late Sunday.

“Okay, please yourself. There’re plenty of beds but I can’t provide a chaperone.”

That sent Mrs Winslow into a peel of laughter. Still giggling, she’d said something really odd: it was he who might need the protection of a chaperone.

What the fuck did that mean?’

“See you,” said Luke and replaced the handset.

Actually, he didn’t mind her barging in like this. He’d sneakily watch her shapely body, the body of a fit 30-year-old, which she was, aged thirty or close to it.

Although playing old woman’s bridge with her mother and friends, she apparently swam most days, played competitive night tennis, played off a golf handicap of thirteen and according to his mother, and she and Doc Winslow had converted a bedroom into a gym with electronic controlled equipment galore.

She was his kind of woman!


He still had red spots on his skin and was skinny whereas Doctor Winslow was broad-shouldered, handsome and very athletic. It was a wonder Mrs Winslow wasn’t down at the conference being on hand for her husband to fuck as required. Wasn’t that the role of a wife?

The thought of fucking turned Luke’s mind to his new girlfriend, Wendy, who worked in a beauty salon. She was a pain, not wanting to eat this or that, refusing to drink beer, only agreeing to be fucked if it were in a bed with the lights out, and then as soon as they cleaned up, she was gone.

Initially, that had been a relief after his stint with Brenda, a near nymphomaniac. She’d drained him on three or four occasions, leaving him trying to pump fluid but the tank was dry.

What was Mrs Winslow’s first name? He had no idea.

Ninety minutes later, Mrs Winslow arrived.

Boy she must have scooted as his father often took longer than that and he liked to floor it. Of course, Mrs W had a Porsche, a somewhat dented, yellow and oldish model.

“Hi, you look cool in just your shorts. I should be topless, too.”

“Why don’t you? We are pretty well concealed here.”

Luke couldn’t believe he’d said that. What a jerk.

“Hmm. Well that’s something to think about,” she said, kissing him lightly, not on the cheek but right on the lips. She smelt great.

“Come on, throw on a shirt and lock up. I passed that Italian café on the way in and it looked only half full. They’ll welcome our custom and I certainly don’t intend cooking.”

No? Wasn’t that the reason for her coming here? She was confusing him.

Mrs Winslow used the bathroom. Luke wished she’d come out topless. She came out, the only noticeable changes being fresh lipstick and her hair looked smoother.

Again, he though she smelt good enough to eat; eying her boobs Luke wondered if that’s where he’d start eating.

“Come on,” she said brightly, tossing him the keys.


But not only awesome. Once inside the car, he was put off by the smell of rotting carpets.

She made no attempt to brief him on driving the aged vehicle, apparently assuming that he was mature enough to drive a speed machine like her one without being lectured.

She was all right!

Excellent, the gearshift was the same in reach and layout as in his mother’s car. He worked out how to start it as he scanned the dashboard, noting the petrol tank was three-quarters full.

It was a very smooth take-off and he entered the village quietly and accelerated up to the legal speed limit on the other side, with the café some four kilometres to the south.

“Floor it if you wish.”

She güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri said floor it, and gave no caution. What a babe.

He hit the accelerator, although not driving it to the floor, and she squealed, “I love it!”

He couldn’t help it, his dick just leaped upright. It was either the influence of her or the car, or both.

“I love it!” yelled Luke, thinking if she would only place her hand on his erection he’d be in heaven.

He didn’t feel disappointed that it hadn’t happened as the expectation had been rather optimistic.

In the restaurant, they sat together on a curved leather seat. Her thigh pressed against his, not heavily, but neither was it withdrawn.

His erection returned.

“What do you feeling like?” she asked, studying the wine list.

His dick strained to answer and then, thank goodness, slowly deflated.

“I would prefer a lighter alcohol white wine and then I’ll not go to sleep on you.”

She stared at him and Luke wondered what he’d said that was out of line.

‘Go to sleep on you’. Surely, she wouldn’t take that literally?

“Go to sleep on me, would you like to do that?”

Mum, mum, help! Your friend Mrs Winslow wants my body!

“Yes,” he squawked, almost an octave higher than his normal voice. The pressure on his thigh increased significantly.

“Then we mustn’t have a bottle, just a glass each, I say.”

The writing on Luke’s menu had blurred, but gradually the print legibility returned.

Their waitress arrived and asked, “Yes ma’am?”

“I’ll have the risotto alle telline, thank you.”


“Meatballs and the side dish of garden salad.”

As the waitress turned away, Mrs Winslow said: “Oh, please bring us a dozen fresh oysters on the one plate to share as a starter.”

Thirty seconds later the pressure on Luke’s thigh went off completely but that was because Mrs Winslow was bending right over him. Luke felt her hand go down to the outside of his trouser front and then trace the outline of his erection.

“Oh good,” she said. “I didn’t expect you’d disappoint me.”

Luke’s mouth took over again.

“Will I be disappointed?”

“Check it out,” she smiled, as the pressure went back against his thigh.

He flushed, knowing that she’d spread her thighs, without verbally inviting him to explore. This was a dream; these things don’t happen to ordinary guys.

Luke took his time, wishing to prolong the pleasure. His right hand slowly wandered down from her waist and on to the thigh, dipping under her skirt and climbing the incline.

He sucked in his breath, finding she was wearing self-supporting stockings like babes wear in sex magazines.

Hitting bare flesh beyond the stocking tops with his fingers, he thought it was Mrs Winslow’s turn to react.

Her breathing appeared to stop.

Oh, yeah!

The wandering hand slipped under her panties and she grunted lightly, just the once, as he began to traverse flesh. Much of it was smooth, but there was some hair at the top. The outer mounds felt very smooth and plump.

Luke was about to penetrate what Brenda called the labia, dunk a finger and seconds later suck it in front of Mrs Winslow.

According to Brenda, a promiscuous redhead, that action turned many women on, though she had warned almost the reverse occurred with some women.

Mrs Winslow looked primed to be turned on but the blasted waitress chose that moment to return with long two-prong forks but not the oysters.

Withdrawing his hand Luke concealed his disappointment, but Mrs Winslow was on to him. Clutching his forearm, she whispered, “Bad luck, I think I know what you were about to do. That has really turned me on.”

They settled down to eat. The oysters were just like oysters, slippery without too much taste, a kind of healthy taste. She ate only two.

Luke watched spellbound as she opened her mouth and out came her very long and quite pointy tongue.

On both occasions, she delicately dropped the oyster on to her tongue, paused for a second while looking at him, then closed her eyes as her tongue slowly pulled the oyster back into her sweetly shaped mouth. Her eye sockets, then tilted slightly toward the ceiling, remaining closed as she swallowed.

Luke had read about this but for him this was something new, seeing someone eating food erotically. His entire body quivered and he was aware his heartbeat had increased in tempo.

The plate was pushed towards Luke and he took his second oyster, trying not to look clumsy.

She dabbed her lips with the serviette and gave him a dazzling smile.

Obviously. the remaining oysters were for him. His ex-girlfriend Brenda had fed him oysters while telling him they were considered to be an aide to a man’s staying power, advising the correct term was an aphrodisiac.

Brenda even made him repeat the name when he stumbled over it and then insisted that he spell it five times.

Aphrodisiac was seared into his mind as the güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri most powerful sounding word in his expanding vocabulary.

Also, prominently occupying his mind, was the image of Mrs Winslow’s extremely long, ivory-coloured neck as she swallowed her oysters. Never had he thought of someone’s neck looking sexy, but never had a beautiful swanlike neck been presented to him so erotically.

They got through the two-course meal without any further touching and chatted calmly.

Mrs Winslow apologised for landing herself into his solitude.

She explained that the thought of a weekend at the beach had suddenly come to her. She’d began thinking there was Luke by himself on the edge of a beautiful beach and he probably was hungry, and not eating properly. So, she’d picked up the phone and called before losing the magic of the moment.

That phrase startled Luke.

“The magic of the moment?”

“Yes, one of my friends at the conference had earlier phoned to ask if I were okay, because my husband seemed to be in the company of another woman. The description of that interloper exactly fitted Barbara, his head receptionist. I was aware they had the occasional fling but this time it seemed to get to me.”

“I thought I should retaliate. I hope you don’t mind me going on like this?”

Luke shook his head and tried to look sympathetic.

“A thought rose within me that I should go to someone young and unspoiled rather than a lecherous contemporary.

“Initially, I thought the cupboard was bare, that no such unspoiled young man existed in my life, but when my search extended to my fringe life, the image of you came into my mind and I decided I should attempt to seduce you.”

There was silence and Luke instinctively knew this was not the time to smart lip her, nor to try to touch her. She was vulnerable, poised ready to flee, or so he imagined.

In truth. she probably was a hard-nosed bitch and whenever her husband was out of town, she went on the prowl to suck the cum out of some hapless guy who mistakenly thought he’d somehow generated awesome sex appeal.

The contradiction of this thinking confused Luke, blurring his conception of the reality. Christ, he wished his mother were here to help him sort it out. But she wasn’t here and in this particular moment she wouldn’t want to be here anyway – no way!

He realized he could simply steam ahead and get his fuck, but just how memorable would that be?

Mrs Winslow was his mother’s friend, and his mother would expect him to look after a friend of hers in need, not to fuck her, although he wasn’t sure if his mother used the f-word. Yes, she would expect him to show this somewhat unsettled woman compassion.

Compassion? Does one normally show compassion for an opportunistic hottie? Well, she was waiting for a response.

Luke looked at her.

She was smiling at him softly; her lips were closed rather than open to expose predatory teeth under hardened eyes. Goodness, her eyes were almost violet; she was pretty though not stretching into beautiful, but those eyes, they were most unusual, really gorgeous.


Mrs Winslow’s left eyebrow raised ever so slightly at that inspired response.

Fuck, he didn’t even know her first name! Then the response filled his mind and he knew his brain had done the job for him.

“You have made an inspired choice. I have long watched you at a distance, though truthfully, I must say with admiration rather than with carnal thoughts.”

Carnal thoughts? Where did that term come from? Luke wasn’t aware that he’d ever uttered the word carnal, yet it had sounded very appropriate. He worried that he may have sounded pompous.

With relief he saw Mrs Winslow wore a look that suggested joy, um, of should that be joyfulness?

Ooh, it was so easy to strum and influence a woman when they want something. Mind you, thought Luke, in this case he was being sincere, very sincere.

“Am I carnally unattractive to you?”

Hurrah. She’s right back into it. Her need to confess has been expressed, He’d reacted like a good prospect, and now her confidence was restored.

“Just drop the u-n.”

“Pardon me?”

“Amend your word unattractive.”

“Oh, I see. Are you indicating I’m carnally attractive to you?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve more than cuddled some great babes but I sense I’m about to be elevated into a completely new league.”

“You are such a sweetie, Luke.”

Luke told her that he was honoured to be the chosen one, and he’d do his best to ensure she was not disappointed. He cleaned up his plate, looked at her trying hard to wear a sultry look and asked, “Ready to go?”

After paying for the meal and with their waitress still within earshot at the checkout, Mrs Winslow took Luke’s arm and said without whispering, “Take me home to bed.”

Luke was now really turned on.

Mrs Winslow drove home very fast including through the sleeping village and along the 400-metre access road to the waterfront beach houses. güvenilir bahis şirketleri They walked hand-in-hand into the house.

“Where do you sleep?”

“On the deck on that day sleeper.”

“May I sleep with you there?”

“Yes, but first let’s go down on to the sand with a rug. It’s glorious down there. You’ll hear the water lapping and the dry sand will contour to your body.”

“Right, where’s the rug? Aren’t we fortunate to have moonlight? I suppose we will be watched?”

“I don’t think so. Most beachgoers are fucked out by this time, it’s after 11:30.”

“Right, do you have any misgivings about this, Luke? If your mother finds out, I’ll lose her friendship. But more important to me is what’s your attitude to committing adultery?”

“It will be a first for me, adultery that is. But my attitude is a fuck is a fuck.”

“Good fellow, you’re the man. Undress me here and we’ll walk down nude; it will be more romantic, don’t you think?”

For a moment Luke wished he didn’t have skinny legs.

At the beach, many of his mates and, it seemed all virile-looking older men, displayed powerful thighs and solid calf muscles. However, he was around average in the hanging ‘dong’ department and probably that would continue through to full erections, though he really wouldn’t know about that.

Mrs Winslow came out of the bathroom. Luke was glad she hadn’t undressed; more great erotic moments lay at his fingertips. She stood in front of him, confidently, pursed her lips and closed her eyes.

This was an invitation to be kissed.

Luke kissed her gently, reaching around for her zip. She was wearing one of those little black dresses that all chicks seem to like wearing on evening dates.

She made no attempt to tongue him, thank goodness. If she’d done that his cock would have ripped through his trousers.

Still kissing, he leaned away from her, pulling her dress forward and she swung her arms out towards him. He dropped the dress to the floor.

Time to catch a good look, thought Luke, opening his eyes and preparing to release her. The dark, violet tinged eyes were already open. She’d been watching him!

Luke’s eyes then went straight to her breasts, expecting to see them in one of those wire-supported half-bra things that push up the tits to make them even larger looking and ready to be sucked. But she was in a rather solid looking sports job with thick shoulder straps, and Luke saw the reason for this. She wore it to try to flatten her shape and control speed wobble.

The breasts were large, far out. They were larger than expected for a babe of her physique.

Reaching behind her, Luke fiddled with the hooks and she made no effort to assist, instead she buried her lips into his neck. This babe had real class!

Off came the bra and down dropped the breasts, almost making Luke’s eyes pop. He adored heavy hanging breasts although any size was fine so long as they drew reaction when he played with them by sucking, nibbling, tweaking or licking. Gosh, breasts were so versatile.

Her belly was too flat. But no, she’d sucked it in. As she resumed normal breathing, a delightful curve appeared.

There were a number of basic differences between men and women that Luke had learned about, one or two only recently.

The one he looked forward to be revealed in flesh was the female belly curve, and that’s why Luke was one of the first guys out on the beach in mid-morning to eye the start of the day’s bikini parade.

His idea of body perfection was the gentle curve of a woman’s belly on an otherwise taunt midriff, practically devoid of fat. He could happily and easily jerk himself off on such an image, and occasionally did so. Babes with other different belly shapes were fine, it’s just that one particular formation gained his award as being the best, not that he was particularly experienced.

Luke winced, thinking here she was displaying an exquisite-looking belly to him and soon she would be staring at his pea-sticks, trying not to giggle and thinking they were only a little wider around than his cock. Well, as least that thickness was something.

He decided to leave the stockings; if she wanted them off, she could take care of that. They looked very sexy and she had lovely, shapely leg for an older dame; oh, that would be the swimming, tennis and golf. Hurrah for sport!

The sight coming into view of the white flesh showing above the stocking tops and then as edible rounds immediately above them, pumped up his heart into few extra beats per second.

Did she have any idea how good she looked? She looked fabulous and born to be fucked!

Well, old boy, he thought. His mind was churning around like a concrete mixer and waxing on quite lyrically for him. She really had him by the short and curlies. She’ll expect him to praise her body.

“Jesus, what fabulous legs! Have you got these insured for a million bucks?”

It sounded corny but her eyes widened and somehow, she seemed to look a little younger.

“It’s a long time since anyone complimented me so grandly. Go forth, young man, do anything providing it’s no injurious to health.”

Man, what a come on! Did his eyes widen? Luke was certain she’d made his almost pop out. Wasn’t it amazing how a few tender words between two people could really get them going!

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