Wives and Lovers Ch. 04

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Three of a Kind.
10.8k words
4.75
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Part 4 of the 4 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 05/26/2017
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WARNING TO READERS - This is a long, rambling story and VERY British which has been divided into several parts for ease of editing and reading. The actual chapters are not equal in length and therefore some postings may be longer or shorter than others. The individual parts will make more sense if read in sequence as they follow straight on chronologically.

Most, but not all chapters contain some sexually explicit sections and the story has a strong theme of taboo family relationships and adultery which some readers may find disturbing and might wish to cease reading now.....

GF

Chapter Four: Three of a Kind

Moving into the guest annex at Margot's house at Gerrards Cross had actually turned out to be a lot less painful and a greater success than I had anticipated.

That first week had been physically challenging but bloody good fun. Margot was working late shift at the hospital Accident and Emergency Department and was about during most of the day and insisted on helping me to run backwards and forwards to my London apartment ferrying some of my possessions down to Surrey. The task quickly turned into a travelling shag fest, it was almost impossible for us to be together for any length of time without needing to fuck. We had made a sort of flippant pact that given the opportunity we would have sex every couple of hours until either Margot became bored or I expired from sexual exhaustion...which-ever came first. Certainly those first few days we tried to live up to that promise as if we had meant it for real..... in fact I began to believe that Margot did.

I was seriously starting to believe that I had married into a family with tendencies towards nymphomania. Either that or I had died and gone to a tailor made heaven. I often mused that if Uncle Frederick had found the afterlife that he deserved it would be a heaven with fast cars and aeroplanes, even faster women and unlimited 20 year old Scotch. I think that I was getting a preview of my own ideal paradise.

My life expectancy seemed to be getting shorter with each shag, which added to my wife's perfectly reasonable anticipation of conjugal sex being on tap when she returned from work in the evening had me seriously thinking that if this was to be a permanent arrangement then I could well end up with early onset sexual fatigue and in need to having Margot prescribe me courses of sildenafil citrate before I even got to fifty. I wasn't quite forty yet, Chrissy my wife was only twenty-six and her mother, my frightenly fit lover was fifty-two but based on the statistic that most women's sexual energy is four times greater than a mans there was every likelihood that I was going to end up a shagged out corpse with a big smile long before my allocated four score years and ten.

By the week-end we had the annex apartment liveable. Most of the existing furniture was good quality modern teak and plain fabrics which suited my taste and Margot was perfectly happy for us to discard any unwanted pieces which I hauled into the lock-up at the rear of the garage block. The only real casualty was the sofa in the lounge which was hideously uncomfortable and not really large enough for two very energetic shag-addicts and so Chrissy and I took a trip to Urbansuite in Windsor one evening and ordered a replacement Dolcevita corner sofa in a neutral weave fabric which would look good in any future house we might buy, plus a stack of cushions and some occasional tables and lamps.

As soon as we moved in Chrissy had insisted on 'christening' the apartment, making love in every room over the first few days. As a matter of necessity Margot and I had agreed that we would never discuss what happened between Chrissy and I sexually in or out of the bedroom. By mid-week she had somehow either guessed or picked up on the petticoat telegraph the little game that my wife and I were enthusiastically playing each evening and insisted that she and I engage in a similar lovemaking tour of her part of the house during the daytime.

By the end of the third week I felt as if I had been competing in a mini sexual Olympics but although I was falling asleep physically fatigued every night I was a very happy man. As we all seemed to be getting along fine I guessed that I was living with two very happy women.

Life was not just one continuous round of shagging interspersed with recovery periods when I drove over to Bromley for a round of golf and some lunch at my club it just seemed that way at the beginning.

Actually, I was very fortunate that I had inherited my membership to the Sundridge Golf Club from Uncle Frederick, I had been introduced to the game as a fifteen year old novice at school and had played over the Bromley courses as his guest many times and when he died it was specified in his will that his sought after membership to the club should be offered to me even though technically I was under 21 and not yet eligible for full membership. Never-the-less, because of my uncle being who he was and well connected with the club membership committee; because he had left funding for my memberships fees for ten years, a considerable boost to the club finances; and because I was already a decent player with a mid-range handicap I was accepted as a playing member. Although technically of legal age to consume alcohol in the UK, the club rules prohibited me from buying drinks in the bar until I was 21 which was not an issue as I was still up at Cambridge as an undergraduate and generally used my student membership to play over local courses during the university academic year.

*

Indirectly it was playing golf that almost got me sent down from university in my second year.

I had accepted an invitation from one of my history dons, Professor Liam Donnelly to make up a mixed foursome one weekend at the Girton Golf Club with his current mistress and a female visiting don from Trinity College, Dublin. My first book 'DIRK'S CONQUESTS' had just been published and I had become something of the three day wonder, a minor celebrity warranting a half page in the Cambridge News on two separate days, and Liam had mentioned me to Dr. Simone Paget who had shown interest and asked to be introduced.

Liam was a rollicking verbose Irishman of about 50 with a strong taste for Draught Guinness, young women and old whisky and was notorious for leading his following of undergraduates on a regular Saturday night pub crawl through the city. He had recognised in me a kindred spirit early on and soon became more of a drinking buddy than a tutor. In truth his primary subject was 20th Century Irish Social History which was one of my first year modules so he had long ceased acting as my academic mentor.

His current live-in girlfriend at that time was a post-graduate research fellow half his age with big eyes, long blonde hair and a pair of the most enormous tits that any man could wish to fall into. How Mimsie Johnson ever managed to swing a golf club without over balancing never ceased to amaze me, but she was actually a more than passable player.

I had accepted the invitation with alacrity. I was always more than happy to play a round or two at the attractive Girton golf course and doubly so if the green fees and lunch were being paid for by Liam. We had agreed to meet at the club for a ten o'clock tee-off and it would my first meeting with my partner for the day.

Dr. Simone Paget was completely different to the author's parody that had built up in my head. I had envisaged a woman of about Liam's age and a dry academic sort in old fashioned Irish tweed with her clubs in a pre-war vintage leather bag. In reality Simone was closer to my age than Liam's, probably no more than early thirties; one of the brilliant young academics who were starting to be finally recognised by the British and Irish university establishments. In fact although she was an Irish national, her mother had been French and her father an American.

She was not only young but she was attractive with curly blonde hair, a trim athletic figure and in her fuscia pink top and cap and white cropped trousers reminded me so much Annika Sörenstam the current Women's Open champion, that they could have been twins. She had the same bright blue eyes and infectious cute smile. I just hoped that she was as good a player as Liam had thrashed me twice recently and I had fifty quid riding on the outcome of this round.

In fact she was an excellent player and I was also on form that day and we took the morning's eighteen holes with ease, although in fairness I think Liam was strongly hungover from the night before, and Mimsie seemed pissed with him about something and was not playing that well. I won my half-ton wager which I happily offered to split with Simone, but at her suggestion immediately blew most of it on champagne over lunch in the clubhouse.

Three bottles of bubbly and an excellent lunch of rare fillet steak later we tee'd off for our afternoon round somewhat later than planned. Liam had insisted against everybody's advice on placing another wager on the outcome of the afternoon's game which went to prove the rule that you do not make bets after a boozy lunch and he ended up handing over yet more cash to Simone and myself.

By the time that we came in it was late evening and there was a beautiful sunset providing a backdrop for the 18th green and most of the bar had turned out to watch us come in, the last players out on the course and ushered us back into the club bar. As usual Liam was soon the ringmaster for the serious drinkers at the club and a group had gathered at one end of the bar to sing songs and tell tall tales of holes-in-one and spectacular and dubious eagles.

The problem was that I had heard all of Liam's stories before and so had Mimsie and by about ten o'clock we had taken our glasses and a full new bottle of Chablis Domaine de Malandes and were sitting outside on the grass verge by the putting green. I guess that what happened was inevitable. We were both more than a bit pissed, the night was warm and when I suggested to Mimsie that we took a walk along the first hole we both knew where that stroll would be leading us.

By the time that we reached the little screened hollow by the double bunker just before the 1st green we had given in to our urges and had already stopped to kiss and fondle one another several times and were both starting to become extremely horny. The hollow appeared soft and inviting and completely screened from the lane and the clubhouse.

I can't remember getting out of my clothes but within minutes we were sprawled in the grassy bottom of the hollow both stark naked. I pulled her to me and our lips met in a long soft kiss my tongue urgently seeking to couple with hers and we lay there for several long minutes just enjoying each other's mouths her long blonde hair swirling around my face and filling my senses with the soft perfume of her shampoo.

Mimsie was a little on the plump side, with big tits and round soft buttocks but she had a small firm waist. I let my hands rove over her body until they encountered the soft heavy globes that were her breasts and my thumbs searched for and found her nipples. I remember them being large with pink aureolas and her nipples were huge when erect and I rubbed my thumbs over them feeling the points start to harden beneath my touch, and felt a reciprocal firmness starting to turn my prick into a rigid rod ready for action despite the huge amount of alcohol consumed that night.

"Shit, Felix!" Mimsie broke our kiss and hissed at me huskily, "How come we have never fucked before....?"

We clung to each other stark naked, our faces buried in each other's throats and her breasts rubbing against me, her hard nipples were like little hot finger tips tracing a pattern across my chest. Our crotches were grinding together, my hard prick rubbing back and forth against her mound.

"Oh, yes, Oh shit, yes..... That feels good!" she cried loudly and I was grateful that we were far enough from the club car park not to be overheard, or so I believed.

Then I was on my knees between her thighs and she was open and waiting for me, my erection a quivering sign post pointing towards her moist pink slit. I noticed that she shaved her pubic hair into a narrow 'Flight Path' of soft light brown fluff and leaned forward to kiss gently down the length of the downy path until my mouth met the lips of her pussy. She grasped the back of my head and pressed my face into her groin and I pressed my lips to her pussy and gently blew hot breath over and into her, then followed up with my tongue, the tip flicking her clit then tracking back up the narrow pubic fluff path.

"Oh, Fuck!" Mimsie moaned, "I want you inside of me! I want you to screw me Felix, screw me hard....!"

I scrambled for my trousers and managed to find the emergency condom that I always kept in my wallet and started to tear open the foil when her hand flashed across of line of sight, snatched the rubber from my fumbling fingers and tossed it into the undergrowth.

"Forget that....just fucking screw me!" She hissed urgently.

I felt her hand gripping my erection and start to drag it down and forward to rub the glans up and down her pussy lips, only the very tip of my prick penetrating the moist velvety slit. My whole world at that moment was filled with a single ambition, to enter that hot and welcoming portal and drive the full length of my erection into her. I thrust forward and felt my length starting to enter and fill her, she was really ready for me, and her tunnel was hot and wet and incredibly tight.

Mimsie threw her arms around my neck and let out a loud scream, "O-o-o-o-o-o-h! Oh, Fuck! Oh, Yes....!" Her head was thrown back, and her blue eyes were wide open, huge and sparkling. In her lust I thought that her chubby little face was quite attractive and for the first time I could fully understand what Liam saw in her.

Then we were laughing and holding each other and she was kissing my face and lips, her hands holding my buttocks urging me ever deeper into her as she raised her knees and hooked her heels over my legs to exert even more force.

"Ah, yes! " she screamed shrilly, "Yes! Don't stop ..... Harder....! Harder .....!"

I needed no urging, I was totally absorbed with the sensations centred on my rock hard prick and started to thrust long and hard, drawing half my length slowly back and then ramming forward with Mimsie meeting each violent thrust measure for measure. We fucked like that for a long time. Her fists were beating on my shoulders and back, her heels drumming against the back of my knees and her thighs pressing down on mine pulling me deep into her with each stroke. We were moaning, gasping and grunting with exertion, as we pounded each other closer and closer to the peak of sensation. Her pussy was now really hot and tight and I could feel the pressure exerted on the tip of my tool each time I plumbed deep into her with a forward stroke. I was really near to eruption, when her groin smashed up hard against mine, she impaled herself forcefully onto my erection and I rammed into her with all the force in my hips and legs until suddenly she was jerking and screaming and I could hold back no longer and my sperm exploded uncontrollably into her in a long hot pulsing stream.

There was an almighty roar that would have rivalled that of an enraged lion and suddenly the hollow was flooded with a moving beam of electric light.

My orgasm had left me stunned for a moment but Mimsie grasped the situation immediately.

"Oh Fuck! LIAM!" She screamed, and wriggled out from beneath me, scrambled up the side of the grassy hollow and bolted across the 1st fairway, stark naked, bare footed and wailing like a tormented banshee, her hair flying behind her and her lovely gigantic boobs bouncing before.

I looked up and saw Liam standing at the edge of our love nest with a large torch in one hand and what appeared to be a four-iron in the other. Behind him came a crowd of chattering members from the club house. I guessed that Mimsie's screams of passion had been louder that I had thought and had created some interest in our activities.

It was to my advantage that Liam had been drinking heavily and the shock and fright had a sobering effect on my poor sex befuddled brain. I grabbed my trousers with one hand and shoes with the other and made a dash in the opposite direction to Mimsie, skirting around the green and making for the service road. Liam hesitated, swaying and unable to decide which of us he most wanted to catch and in the end took the easiest route and with another ferocious roar galloped off in pursuit of his errant girlfriend who I could hear still wailing in the distance.

I managed to get back to my car only to find another crowd of club members and Simone Paget watching fascinated in the car park as I clambered into the driver's seat still stark naked, fumbled my keys from my trouser pocket and then drove away in a shower of gravel to a chorus of jeers and cheers. I didn't stop until I was on the outskirts of Cambridge when there was no evidence of pursuit and I took the time to pull on my trousers and don the plastic mac from the boot.

Two days later I was summoned to the office of the head of college. The story of the naked alfresco lovers galloping about the Girton Golf Club had hit the local newspaper complete with names and portraits and much reference to my disreputable heritage. It seemed that I was never to be allowed to live down Uncle Frederick's exploits and was rapidly clocking up a notoriety all of my own.

I accepted a severe tongue lashing and would probably have been sent down for besmirching the college name if we hadn't been only a couple of weeks from end of semester and I hadn't been rescued by Liam himself, who made a plea on my behalf and shouldered the lion's share of the blame citing that as my tutor he should have exercised more supervision and control over me.

In fact Liam had called round to my flat the next day and had taken me out for a Guinness at The Cow, in Corn Exchange Street and returned my discarded shirt and socks, my underpants disappeared for ever and had probably been taken as a souvenir by a club member. I spent several nervous weeks waiting for them to get pinned up somewhere public. In the light of a new day his initial ire had cooled and he saw the whole incident as a great joke and I had no doubt that it would be added to his repertoire of dubious stories and would be doing the rounds of the Cambridge pubs by the end of the week.

I only saw Mimsie, real name Marilyn Johnson, a couple of times before the end of Easter term and the start of Long Vacations. She never went back to living with Liam but Dr. Simone Paget did! It appears that I had inadvertently performed the pair a service by giving Liam and excuse to dispense with the gorgeous Mimsie in favour of his latest conquest. A few years later Liam and Simone moved to UCLA where they remain and Liam is, to this day my mentor and one of my closest friends.

I should not have been greatly surprised that Gabby Rubens, my literary agent, used the press coverage of the incident to add spice to the publicity campaign for the book launch of 'DIRK'S CONQUESTS'. I was sincerely grateful however, when the press focus was diverted to the first streaker to take to the grass at Wimbledon, during the Men's singles final of 1996. Balls dropped everywhere!

*

Margot had already proposed that I should take a membership at the Harewood Downs Golf Club, near-by at Amersham where she played, it was a nice parkland course which I had played over a couple of times as a guest and had agreed to her putting me up for membership. We had driven over one afternoon with her other daughter Gail, who was also a member.

Chrissy could play, she had been taught by her mother but she wasn't really a keen sportswoman at all. I had found her clubs, a decent set of Callaway Solaire in a pretty pink and white bag, in one of the lock-ups behind the garage block when we were moving furniture. I had once asked her about sports shortly after we got married and were relaxing in our hotel suite in Mexico City after making love.