Paint Guns

It was a Friday afternoon and I was just strolling along, heading homeward. I’d been at a funeral that afternoon, a great-uncle of mine had recently deceased and I was duty bound to make an appearance. I had barely known the man, but when your mother says “You will be at the funeral, won’t you” a wise man knows the answer is yes.

The reason I mention the funeral is to explain my clothes. I was wearing a suit. Not my accustomed attire, I assure you. What with one thing and another I just hadn’t bothered to change after the funeral and when I walked to the local shop and back I was still looking like a gentleman.

Right up to the time that those damn brats attacked. I’d just passed a couple of young lads in the street, and by young, I mean about age ten. They were standing under a tree whispering to each other and holding these funny little guns. I assumed they were just playing cops and robbers or something similar.

Now the place I was passing had a nice hedge for their front fence. Quite high and very nicely trimmed. Just as I was reaching the driveway I felt my foot snag on something and something fell over with a clatter.

That had apparently been a crude alarm, and two more young lads popped out of the driveway, also equipped with those funny looking guns. The difference is that they popped out firing and had scored half a dozen hits before they saw that they had the wrong target.

That’s how I made my acquaintance with paint guns. The pellets don’t particularly sting when they hit but they definitely leave a mark. Or in my case, six marks in assorted red, green and yellow. All over my nice suit. I was not what you would call impressed.

The two boys looked at me in startled horror, flung a quick glance at each other and were turning to bolt when I stopped them.

“Don’t even think of running,” I told them, injecting a note of command into my voice.

They both seemed to freeze on the spot. I could hear running feet and knew that the two intended targets were leaving the scene. From the sound of it, laughing hysterically at the same time.

“You live here?” I asked the boys and received a reluctant nod.

“Then why don’t we go in and say hullo to your mother?”

The boys didn’t seem to think that was a really good idea, but then again, they didn’t have much choice in the matter. I shepherded them to the front door and rang the bell.

A pretty young thing answered the door. The term MILF sprang to mind. She really was a honey. She didn’t look a day over twenty five, even though if she was the mother of ten year old boys she had to be several years older than that.

She looked at the paint guns the boys were holding and then at my suit.

“You do realise I’m going to kill the pair of you?” she told the boys.

One of then just hung his head but the other was quite willing to defend himself.

“It was an accident, Mum,” he protested. “We didn’t mean it. We thought he was Tommy and Mike.”

His mother was not impressed. She told them both to go to their room and she’d deal with them later. Hanging their heads, the boys trailed off.

Turning to me, she invited me in, full of apologies. By now I was finding the whole thing quite amusing.

“I wouldn’t worry about the suit,” I told her. “It’ll clean and it was due to go in for one anyway. Don’t be too hard on the boys. It was an accident. They pulled off a very nice little ambush. It was just bad luck on their part that the wrong person walked into it. The only reason I dragged them in to face the music is so that they’ll think things out a bit more carefully next time.”

Gwen, we had introduced ourselves, was relieved. I think she’d had visions of police being called for assault and vandalism, legal action, lawyers, etc.

“I’m so sorry that it happened,” she told me. “I’ll speak to them and make sure they know to be more careful. If there’s anything I can do to make up for it, please let me know.”

“She’ll be right,” I told her. “No real harm, so just forget it.”

“Thank you. You’re kind, but I’m serious. If there’s any way in which I can make up for it I’ll only be too happy to oblige.”

I’d tried to do the right thing, but she was repeating the offer and as noted earlier, she was a honey.

“If you insist,” I said and started undoing the buttons on her shorts. Started, hell. I had them undone and her shorts and panties starting downward before Gwen could more than blink.

Gwen squeaked at that stage but then swallowed the squeak with a gasp as my hand slid over her curls. Nice and soft they were, too. She must use conditioner there.

“What are you doing?” she yelped at me.

“Taking my compensation,” I said. “I wasn’t going to, but seeing you’re so insistent…”

Now my hand was between her legs, massaging her mound. Her hands were on my chest, pushing me away. In theory, anyway. She didn’t seem to be pushing too hard.

“That was not an invitation for you to grope me,” Gwen hissed at me.

“Oh, I don’t intend to grope,” I assured her, easing her back so she was leaning back against the kitchen table.

I unzipped and took out my erection, giving Gwen plenty of time to see what was coming her way.

“Are you crazy?” she demanded, staring down at where my cock was starting to push between her legs. “You can’t just walk in here and try to have sex with me. You know that’s not what I was offering when I said anything I can do.”

By now my cock was pressing up against her slit and I put my hands on Gwen’s hips to hold her steady while I penetrated her. I pressed in slowly, letting her have time to accept what was happening and have her body adjust to it.

“You’re insane and this isn’t happening,” Gwen mumbled, eyes still fastened on where I was rapidly vanishing into her.

And you’re not doing a single thing to prevent it, are you, I thought, and pressed even more firmly against her.

A last forceful push and I was inside her. Now all that remained was the fun part. I pulled back and pressed home again, watching to see if Gwen would respond. She did. She might be looking a little stunned but she pushed eagerly to me meet me. Once started, there was no going back.

I drilled into Gwen and she met me halfway. There was no need to start slowly and build up a nice rhythm. I just went at her hard and strong, right from that first thrust, and Gwen responded the same way, her hips heaving up to meet me and welcome me into her.

Gwen had been right about one thing. I was insane. I mean, to just pull down the pants of a woman I’d never met before and start taking her? And to have her respond so eagerly? The whole situation was crazy, but it felt marvellous. There should be more of this craziness in the world.

I kept driving heavily into Gwen, letting the tensions rise in both of us. I was conscious that the two boys were in the house and might come out of their bedroom despite their mother’s threats, so I hastened the action.

Gwen had one leg off the floor and around me, holding me to her while she drove hard against my plunging cock, helping to pull it deep inside her. We were going faster now, and heat was building. It couldn’t last, not at the pace we were coming together.

I gasped and started spraying inside Gwen, and a few moments later she also groaned, her leg dropped away from where it had been holding me, and Gwen was shuddering under me as she climaxed.

I’d re-zipped and Gwen was doing up her shorts when there came a yell from the backyard. A loud male voice was calling for Gwen.

“Be there in a moment,” Gwen yelled back, urging me towards the door. “You had better go. I have to see what my husband wants.”

I left, feeling slightly stunned. Her husband was actually home and in the backyard while I was taking his wife in the kitchen? Why hadn’t it occurred to me that he might be home? Sometimes the breaks just go your way. I headed on home, whistling.