I have heard, or probably read that men do it. With some men, we can pretty much tell they are doing it when they look at you. I had not, though, heard or read much about women doing it and until recently I most certainly had never done it. But as Gavin leaned back against the work surface in my kitchen and as I looked at him, his clothes seemed to vanish and I visualised him naked.
Gavin is one of my nineteen year old son's friends. They were at school together and at the time were going off to uni together. I have known him since he was a kid and have always liked him He is polite and well mannered, always ready to help and has a fine sense of humour, he fits in easily in our household. He has similar sporting interests as my husband Richard, they both play golf and love football and cricket and he gets on well with my daughter in a friendly, but flirty sort of way.
I am in my mid-forties, a time that some might term the change of life period. For me, mentally and emotionally at least that is very true. With one brief aberration when I had an affair I have been faithful to Richard for well over twenty years. Over the past few years that has become more difficult. Richard works horrendous hours and travels a great deal with his job. Although his position as a senior partner in a corporate law firm and money I made from selling my family publishing business provides us with a very comfortable life-style, my world is getting worse and not better as I get older. Peter my son has been at university for over a year now and Sara has gone to college this year. Hence, I am desperately lonely. Richard's work to life balance is out of kilter and he has little time for anything other than his prescious, fucking career. Worse, for on top of that he has lost his sex drive or, maybe is getting it somewhere else for he rarely wants me.
I don't think that is my fault as my figure has hardly changed in the last ten years and most people say I do not look my age. I have little excess weight, no cellulite and few wrinkles. My breasts are an ample C going on for D cup and only sag a little, I have no swell on my tummy or hips and when I play tennis in a skirt, men ogle my shapely legs. I dress smartly and fairly sexily, wear glam underwear, look after my shoulder-length ash blonde hair and have never refused him for I am always up for it. The problem is that 'it' does not come often enough, which in turn means I do not cum enough! And I need to do that. Masturbation helps and occasionally I have 'cybered,' but recently I have begun to realise that they are not enough.
*
That afternoon when I looked at my son's friend and 'saw' him naked was a watershed for me. After 'seeing' his broad, naked chest, his narrow waist, long, lithe legs, flat stomach and beautifully formed long, thick dick I was perplexed. I had not done anything like that before. Over the next few weeks before they went to university it happened twice more, both times with Gavin. The nights after these episodes as I lie in bed naked, my hands roaming over my breasts and between my legs I shocked myself even more. I found myself visualising being pulled firmly against the body I had 'seen' earlier, holding and stroking that dick and then letting it slide into me as Gavin fucked me.
When the boys came home from college for weekends or holidays Gavin seemed different. He was more chatty to me, he seemed more interested in me and in what I did with my time, he looked at me more and smiled at me more often. It was during the Christmas holiday that as, once more we were in the kitchen, I saw the look in his eyes that I had seen with other men and I realised that he was undressing me. I felt embarrassed. I also felt surprised, shocked and yes, I have to admit, aroused.
I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to handle the situation and I had no idea what he was after. Surely after knowing me for such a long time as Missus Moor, his friend Peter's mum, he wasn't fancying me was he? Surely he wasn't trying to show an interest? And surely he didn't want to have sex with me, or did he?
He turned away and picked up the newspaper. The three of us had lunch in the kitchen. Twice his knee touched mine under the table. He helped me clear up and brushed himself against me. Later, when I leaned forward to hand him a beer his eyes held mine, slid downwards, peered at the gaping front of my top and then back to hold my gaze. He had a slight smile on his face. I smiled back. As we all watched TV, he and Peter drank their beers as I sipped my wine. He glanced at me a couple of time and, I hoped, did not see me glancing at him.
I saw that look in his eyes again. At the same time I was once more undressing him. It made for what I found to be a strange, but highly charged atmosphere. He and I were mentally having sex whilst my son was in the room.
I didn't see him for the week or so over Christmas, but we were at the same party on New Years Eve. We chatted, but in a group, not just the two of us. It was after midnight as the party in a marquee in the grounds of mutual friend's massive house, was breaking up that he came up to me. I was standing by the bar. Richard was talking to golf buddies and Peter was nowhere to be seen, but then he had been chasing an attractive young woman all evening.
"Like to dance Cat?" He asked as the DJ played a smoochy, Sinatra song.
I was surprised and went to refuse, but he took over and grabbed my hand. That felt nice and I found myself following him onto the small dance floor that was dark and crowded. He held me tight in his arms, he pulled me to him and we swayed on the spot as we chatted about how his studies were going. The first song ended and another slow one came on. I went to leave, but he held onto me. I looked around to see if anyone was looking at us, but they weren't so I stayed there in his arms, pressed against him. We stopped talking and I enjoyed the swaying on the spot type of dance. I felt his hand moving. One slid down my back pausing, as mens' hands often do on my bra strap. Again as many men do he sort of fondled it. His other hand was on my hip. That moved at the same as which he moved himself away from me a little. The lower hand slid round my waist and then slipped downwards a little until his fingers rested on the swell of my bum. I was wearing a tight, thin, black dress and under it a tiny black thong and stockings; I was hoping to 'seduce' my husband later.
The pressure from his fingers was very evident to me. It felt good. I again glanced round, but nobody was looking or interested, or so it seemed. His other hand also slid downwards and rested just beneath my waist. As we moved he turned that so his fingers were pointing downwards. He stayed like that for a few moments, but then slowly eased both hands downwards so that they rested on the cheeks of my bottom. That brought me to my senses and I wriggled my body trying to indicate for him to move them, but by doing that I closed the gap between us. I was pressed against him and realised that he had an erection. He pulled away.
"Sorry Cat" he whispered.
I was slightly drunk as I think he and most of the guests at the party were.
"That's ok" I whispered back relishing the lovely sensation.
Somehow, though, I pulled myself together. My respectable, middle class thinking took over and I pulled away.
"I think maybe we should go to the bar" I said walking away from him, my heart pounding and my mind racing at what had just happened.
Fortunately, at the bar we were soon in a group of others and I wasn't alone with him. Several times, though, before the party broke up around two our gazes locked. I wasn't at all sure whether I was pleased with that or not.
I spent New Years Day with the family. Richard flew off to New York the day after and things got back to normal, well actually back to how they were before Christmas. That meant Peter and Gavin spending a lot of time at my house. His parents were near to divorce and his mum, though a lovely lady was a real lush and often was pissed by six in the evening. Gavin or his father rarely had a dinner cooked for them!
"I'm going back early mum" Peter told me a few days later. "I have a load of stuff I have to catch up with."
In some ways I was relieved for I assumed that Gavin would go with him. The next day, as Peter started to pack Gavin and I were in the kitchen where I was making some tea. I had put some of his clothes with Peter's in the washing machine. I felt him behind me, quite close.
"Will it be ok Cat if I pop round now and then when Pete's gone?"
I turned. He was very close, too close really for he was really invading my space. Our eyes locked for a moment or two. I didn't know what to do. Part of me, almost desperately, wanted to say yes, but at least an equal part knew I had to say no. From the party, when he had held me, become erect and had fondled me, it seemed as though he fancied me, but was that the atmosphere and the drink? In this colder light of sober day, did he want an older woman? Also, did I want him? Yes was the easy answer, yes I desperately wanted him, but was I prepared to take the risk? Can a woman ever really trust a man not to tell? Can she accept that he won't boast that 'I have had her?'
In my case the ramifications of Gavin doing that were so huge that I really didn't think the rewards of having sex with him justified the risks. That said, sex changes things and makes us act completely differently to how we know deep down we should. I took a deep breath before answering.
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea Gavin."
"What you mean after New Years Eve?"
"Yes."
"I said I was sorry."
"Yes you did, I know."
Luckily, or unfortunately I wasn't sure which, we heard Peter coming down the stairs.
"Ok I'm ready, who is gonna take me to the station?"
Gavin and I looked at each other.
"The clothes are still washing, don't you need any of them Peter?"
"No thanks mum, I have all I need and in any case I will be back the week after next it's Brucies party."
"Look shall I take Pete and by the time I get back, my clothes should be finished?"
