The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Saturday morning arrived at last; Jim had certainly been wishing time along in his mind, urging Saturday to arrive. It found him standing at his window watching for Sophie’s car, dressed and ready rather than naked and stroking. The naked bit would come later, he was sure, and it would not be him doing the stroking. He was racing down the stairs as soon as he saw it drive up with two occupants. Two occupants who had absolutely no idea that they were about to engage in lesbian sex and be molested by two men, one man quite young and the other rather old.

The young women were all smiles. Yet, as Jim greeted them and they returned the greeting, Jim could not but think that soon those smiling lips might well be wrapped around male organs. A thing he had, like so many men, thought when looking at pretty work colleagues, but with other men there was so rarely the real prospect of it happening.

The two girls so nicely dressed, not in work clothes. Not jeans but pleasingly skirted, an effort made for a somewhat formal visit. They had been invited for coffee.

Mr Crowfoot too had made an effort. He was in a tweed suit with a surprisingly modern and wide tie. Jim was a little surprised. Had Mr Crowfoot been in town shopping?

Good to see the girls’ knees as they sat together on the sofa in the front lounge before Jim was despatched to fill the perculator and make the coffee. He rather wished he had made a bit more of an effort in dressing. He felt a little out of place. It was not as if his jeans were not clean, even pressed and you could not fault his shirt. It was just not dressy. So easy to get such things wrong, though, assuming nudity later, it would not matter for long!

There was not a dramatic contrast between the two girls, but they were different. Jim liked them both.

Neither exceptionally busty, they did not possess the stereotypical large breasts men so like to ogle. They were not spilling out of their blouses. Jenny could be described as ‘willowy,’ a tall girl with legs to match which was not to say that Sophie’s legs were unshapely or that she was short. She was sort of average sized and rather larger boned than Jenny with hips that could be described as ‘child bearing.’ Jim had already seen Sophie naked, knew intimately what she looked like. He not only knew but had fondled her sweet, rather conical breasts and her pale areolae and nipples. As the paleness implied, Sophie was rather blond and that extended to her fulsome bush of hair to the front of and between her thighs. As yet, but he had great hopes, what Jenny looked like beneath her clothes was mere conjecture. Jim could see that there was not a great deal to her breasts, the brassiere she was wearing perhaps not at all needed for support. Given the darkness of her hair he supposed rather darker pigmentation to her areolae and nipples—he had been paying attention to the girls in his magazines—and that her pubic hair would be similarly dark. Good to see Jenny smoothing down her dress over her thighs

As to sexual experience he knew Sophie was married, had even briefly met her husband but he knew little about Jenny. Was she seeing someone, was she regularly naked in bed with a young man and riding his pole; had she had a succession of young men or was she a virgin even? He rather doubted that.

It was perhaps the flimsy nature of their clothes, so different from the heaviness of male garments that in part explained why his eyes were so drawn to the girls. Even the material of jeans seemed more substantial with men’s clothing, thicker and harder. Perhaps it was impression, perhaps imagination but the way Jennie’s blouse and skirt hung and folded had a deep effect on Jim. How did women manage to look so pleasing? Just the way the soft material of her skirt draped from her knee and thigh was quiet enough to make him perspire. The way it moulded the top of her thigh certainly did nothing to assist. And, of course, the material did not have any old pattern, but a colour and design that harmonised with everything else she was wearing; not that it was overly dressy. It had that natural grace and ease with a wardrobe that girls seemed to manage.

Perhaps it was him. Not just men as such, after all Mr Crowfoot’s suit, his checked ‘country’ shirt and brown brogues, showed an ease with an, admittedly, old fashioned but comfortable style. Even his light green/brown socks looked right. Perhaps, Jim thought, his own perhaps grace and style came out when he was naked. Perhaps—he smiled—he did not have a lot of illusions on that score.

The conversation was free and easy as they drank their coffee. At one point Jenny commented on the house and, it was perhaps then inenvitable that Mr Crowfoot would offer to show them around, even some of the upstairs rooms now he was on his feet again. Some of the bedrooms, and he did not show them all, had a very distinct feel of disuse. Unsurprising in a batchelor’s house where he had no need for so much space and rooms. Jim was not the least surprised when one particular room on the ground floor was left until last. The study indeed and, again, Jim was unsurprised, when Mr Crowfoot closed the door and gave every impression of being in no hurry to return to the front room.

“Tell me, Jenny,” said Mr Crowfoot, seating the girls on the leather Chesterfield, whilst he and Jim pulled up wooden chairs, “because I study such things, what do you think about when you are alone in bed pleasuring youself?” Her eyes widened as if the question had startled and shocked her; and probably it had, but she answered all the same.

“All sorts of things.” She wrinkled her nose in a rather pleasing way, “Female things, often little romantic stories, sometimes...” and she paused, “not so much romantic as erotic, I suppose.”

“Ah, yes, the erotic; the erotic thoughts of young women. So interesting, you can understand, to an old man like myself; a pleasure to hear. Now, tell me what you thought about last time you pleasured yourself.”

“When was that?” Jim rather blurted out the question thinking he should say something.

“Two nights ago,” answered Jenny, “after a hot bath.” She smiled at Jim, “wrapped in a warm fluffy towel.”

Was it the room that encouraged the extra information, Jim wondered, very much liking the idea of Jenny in a big, fluffy towel.

“And you thought about?”

Even the room’s effect did not prevent Jenny seeming to pause. “I… I was imagining myself with a woman not a man. Not my usual thing at all but it just sort of came into my mind for a time.” She glanced at Sophie and back. “Perhaps it’s the same with you men?”

Jim shook his head. That had not at all been one of his fantasies. Nothing like that. Not even in his subconscious. He hadn’t had a wet dream like that. He was sure.

Jenny looked at Sophie again, as if for support, there was a lovely blush to her cheeks. Embarrassed even in the room.

“I… yes, once or twice have thought about… what it would be like. I…”

It was lovely to watch Sophie a little echoing Jenny’s thoughts. The two young women looking at each other as they spoke.

“Why don’t you kiss.” Mr Crowfoot’s words echoed what Jim was thinking. The idea of the two lipsticked mouths leaning closer, a slight inclination of the heads to avoid a clash of noses and a touch of lip to lip. Soft lips to soft lips.

“Oh… I…”

“Imagine you are alone together; it is late and you have been sitting watching such a romantic film; it was so lovely, so delightful; it has aroused you both; you are sitting together with a strong sexual desire; there is no one else around; you both realise what you need; there is no harm in it; why not make love together; who is to know; it will be so interesting and nice; each of you so pretty; you lean in closer and one thing leads to another, and another. You kiss…”

And they did. So sweet and so erotic to see their lips touch tentatively at first then with increasing passion. Anything but a chaste kissing; tongues were very much involved. Their arms went around the other. At first it was just their backs that were stroked, then hair and then they were hugging. Jim looked at Mr Crowfoot and nodded. He liked what Mr Crowfoot was doing.

“I am sure you girls need no instruction from me. Imagine you are alone, ladies, and your desire for each other’s body is mounting. Don’t you wish to see, to touch?”

It was amazing what the study did to women, how easily its effect came over them. It was Jenny’s hand first, reaching whilst they kissed to undo first one button and then the second of Sophie’s blouse. She paused like a boy on an early date, unsure if he had permission to continue, testing the water by cupping one of the girl’s breasts over her blouse and brassiere. A sigh from Sophie was all the reaction Jennie needed and Jim watched wide eyed as her hand moved upwards and then slid inside. Jim was jealous. He very much would have liked to do that himself. And why not. He was in the study. He made to get up, but Mr Crowfoot restrained him.

“Leave them, don’t be so impatient, Jim. Take your pleasure slowly. Just watch. By all means get yourself out and have a stroke or two; take your clothes off if you like; even walk around them to get a different angle; enjoy being naked and hard with your colleagues but don’t come too soon—perhaps I can still even at my age enjoy two women together, but that would be a waste of opportunity for you! Take your time. All good things come to him who waits. You need to learn patience. Let me tutor you. Just watch.”

And so he sat there, just watching, seeing Jennie’s hand moving inside Sophie’s blouse, able to discern when her fingers began tickling a nipple and when they moved to the other breast. It was not long before Sophie’s fingers were undoing her colleague’s blouse too and sliding within. Two girls doing to another girl what they so often did to themselves in bed—that was certainly Jim’s thought. What a thing to see. It had him so hard in his trousers and so desperate to join in, to poke his unsheathed penis between them and have both their lips touching it at once. His hand went up and he almost reached out to touch the girls.

A tap to his knee and a shaking of Mr Crowfoot’s head. “Restraint Jim.”

It was warm in the room and Jim was certainly perspiring; not just from the temperature. The sight of the two girls with hands to each other’s blouses getting ready to unclip and remove brassieres was steamy. Restraint? His rock-hard erection felt very constrained and a glance at Mr Crowfoot had shown he had already released his own penis from his trousers. Mr Crowfoot was not touching it but it certainly showed his pleasure at what he was watching. Perhaps it was more comfortable like that, to be unrestrained; perhaps he was simply getting it ready to stroke; perhaps he was taking great pleasure at being exposed to the young women; perhaps it was all three!

Jim unzipped his fly but paused as blouses and brassieres were shed. He was now seeing Jenny half naked for the first time. Only little breasts, not even a handful each but ‘my what big areolae you’ve got.’ Jim licked his lips feeling very much like the Big, Bad Wolf with Little Red Riding Hood. Jenny had sweet little nipples, but they were surrounded by dark pigmentation and lots of it. If Jim liked what he was seeing it was clear so did Sophie. She was mauling them with a man-like fervour and clearly could not resist bringing her lips to bear. It was too much for Jim. He stood up and began walking, circling the couple and the seated Mr Crowfoot, his eyes fixed to the girls but getting a different angle with every step. He was shedding clothes as he walked, keen to release their restraint; keen to be naked with the girls even if not touching; keen to be without clothes before they were naked even if, under Mr Crowfoot’s instruction, they could not see him.

What a sight if someone had sneaked into the back garden and been able to look into the study window: not actually easy given the ground was lower at the rear of the house making the basement, and not ground floor, level with the garden. Two girls engaged together, a naked young man prowling around them with penis up in the air and an old man in tweeds sitting watching closely in a chair (with exposed penis). A surprising sight to the voyeur. He would wonder what would happen next.

The girls were not hurrying, the delights of each other’s breasts causing them to tarry but it was inevitable, sooner or later, a hand would touch a leg and slide upwards under a skirt. They were not wearing jeans, no need to undo a brass button, slip down a brass zipper and then feel down over or even within a pair of probably cotton knickers. Both Jim and Mr Crowfoot watched the progress of not one hand but two as they disappeared under skirts and crept upwards. The movement of the hands was clear beneath the cotton skirts, perhaps like a pair of hamsters seeking—the simile seemed apt—a burrow or nest. Perhaps, difficult to be quite sure, even from the various vantage points Jim could reach, it seemed as if furry mounds were first stroked without the knickers before fingers burrowed in to touch flesh.

So good to see first Sophie and then Jenny raise their bottoms and their friend draw down their knickers and simply discard them. Jim was still unable to see anything of either girl’s sex beneath the skirts, though fascinated by the way each other girl’s hands made the material move around the junction of their thighs. To continue the simile, it was like two pairs of hamsters were copulating, one pair under each skirt, and doing so with considerable enthusiasm.

Jim scooped up the pairs of knickers, one white, one a rather exciting bright red and brought them all lovely and warm to his penis, wrapping it in them and then stroking himself as if he was alone having, somehow, managed to acquire his two colleagues still warm knickers. As if he was sharing his flat with them and had found them in the laundry basket in the bathroom ready for the washing machine the next day; him following Sophie and Jenny in using the bathroom at the end of the day, sneaking their warm and discarded knickers back to his room for his own ‘use’ before returning them to the laundry basket, perhaps in rather more need of a wash than when the girls had dropped them into the basket, before he dropped off to sleep.

Lovely and warm, so soft and with the girls actually there whilst he wrapped himself in their knickers and wanked. They could not see him, but Mr Crowfoot could, and Jim was momentarily embarrassed by his action. Of course, there was no reason to be embarrassed. They were there to enjoy sex and why should Jim not stroke his exposed penis with the young girls’ discarded knickers? It was not as if Mr Crowfoot was not sitting there with his penis exposed and hard.

Mr Crowfoot held out his hand and Jim handed across the thin cotton, or were the red pair actually silk or, more likely, nylon? Jim’s embarrassment at his somewhat fetishistic use of the knickers evaporated when he saw Mr Crowfoot do exactly the same, wrapping his penis and then stroking the twin knickers up and down, the purple head appearing and disappearing inside the red and white undergarments. It was a strange, shared experience.

“Very pleasant, Jim.” He handed the red pair back and rather than continuing to use the white pair simply tied it around his penis making the knob swell. Jim rather felt he had to follow suite and was soon walking the room with a red flag to his penis and a particularly swollen knob to the end. How he wanted to ask Sophie and Jenny to suck it: not ask, but tell.

The skirts were removed completely revealing the girls to the men. Jim had seen Sophie before but that did not make her fulsome blond bush any the less pleasing, not with Jenny’s fingers stroking and then running her fingers within the delightfully hairy outer lips. The girls lolled on the Chesterfield, fingers to breasts and within vulvas, all so open to the men’s eyes. Jim felt the natural desire to inseminate attractive women very strongly. The urge to push between open thighs and into hot wetness so strong. The desire to do a lesser thing, grab his penis and wank until he rained his semen down onto their opened thighs almost as powerful. The animal desire to rut, fuck, inseminate just so wonderfully strong. A desire but an amazing feeling of pleasure to restrain himself and just bask in the feeling of arousal and his turgid cock standing out from his body.

And, of course, he was torn between the idea of copulating with fair Sophie and dark Jenny. He bent close to Jenny, seeing how her large lips splayed outwards like petals in her arousal, watched Sophie’s bunched fingers really working in and out of her stretched vagina—how much better to have the smooth bulb of a penis pushing in: his penis! He loved the rather delicate way her dark hairs radiated out from her cleft of Venus across the mound of her pubic bone. Whereas Sophie’s blond hair grew in an almost matted confusion of curls, Jenny’s hair was much more restrained; not really curling but just laying rather flat; delicate work compared to Sophie’s more rough and ready sex—if he could put it like that. In either case he would so liked to have released upon their hair; seen blobs of his semen, sticky and creamy soaking into their delightful pubic hair. Naturally, he would like to have been able to come again and again, releasing torrent after torrent of hot semen in so many places on and within their bodies. He was very aroused.

Jim wandered the room, peering, pausing, examining but not poking. Mr Crowfoot had forbidden that and, after all Mr Crowfoot was his somewhat self appointed, tutor and he did not want to disappoint or cross him. Mr Crowfoot was being an excellent mentor. Jim could not fault the practical demonstration and experience.

What lovely girls. If the men in the office could seem them now... But it was best not; best if that was kept to himself and his new-found friend, Mr Crowfoot. Jim was not at all sure he would like other male colleagues joining in. He shuddered at the thought of Charlie or Mike or certainly, Mr Grimshaw, joining him naked and with a view to being intimate with the girls. Mr Crowfoot was somehow different. Jim did not mind him having his penis ‘out’ in his presence, being naked together or sharing a girl or, Jim swallowed, it had not happened yet—girls. Jim did indeed see him as a teacher. An experienced man showing him what he should do.

Jim smiled—a bit different from his old teachers at school and college. What he was being taught now was quite different and, certainly, not at all what his, if he was honest, his favourite teacher had taught. The geography of young women, their uplands and deep wet places were not at all on the ‘A’ level Geography syllabus; Miss Redmond had not taught anything like that when describing the high plains or swampy wetlands.

The girls moved from playing with their fingers in each other’s wet places, with a kiss they moved around, contrarotating until their mouths were lined with the other’s sex. It was clear soixante- neuf was in prospect. What a sight to see, though actually Jim had seen rather more when fingers were inside vaginas; he had been able to enjoy a very good look at both vulvas being manipulated; seen vaginal openings stretched and very much enjoyed the squelching sounds of rapidly moving bunched fingers; he had leant in closely to watch little swollen clitorises being frigged; and had taken great pleasure in seeing the two girls making love together. Now with heads between each other’s thighs and those thighs somewhat clamped around ears there was rather less to see, in fact. But, of course, sexual enjoyment is not at all simply about seeing, it is so much more about impression and thought. It is the mind, the brain, which is the real sexual organ, and it was the idea of what the two girls were doing as much as seeing it which kept Jim’s arousal at fever pitch.

Perhaps his walking was distracting to Mr Crowfoot, but he showed no sign of it; did not seem to mind Jim prowling round and round the room, circling the girls and Mr Crowfoot. Jim felt rather like a predator circling his prey, unseen but watching with deadly intent. Perhaps a couple of young hinds or does, female deer, in a clearing and Jim the wolf outside in the darkness of the forest waiting for his moment. Possibly he was more like the young buck keen to oust the dominant stag and take the harem, waiting for his chance.

The love making seemed to reach some sort of climax: climax indeed, the shivering of both bodies suggested a mutual orgasm. Perhaps clitorises were being sucked at that moment; perhaps tongues were thrust deep into vaginas; perhaps mouths were simply full of sucked in flesh—labia minora, clitoral hood, clitoris—succulent and running with juice. Jim did not know. All he could see was the shaking.

“Delightful, quite delightful,” said Mr Crowfoot, reaching up and stopping Jim in his tracks, “I once went to a club in, well, some Middle Eastern country which had some interesting floor shows. I won’t mention some which were perhaps a little extreme, but I did like the two veiled beauties who gradually removed each other’s flimsy garments and engaged like your dear Sophie and Jenny. No alcohol, just titillation. You were neither meant to touch the performers nor yourself. That was just not done. All rather strange sitting with a group of men in long flowing robes, probably everyone with an erection but not able to enjoy either the girls or take a slightly vicarious pleasure in having a good wank. Just not done to hoist your robe up, expose and play: but here it is quite different. We can do what we like Jim; what would you like to do? You have been patient.”

“I…”

“Neither are on the Pill so you know what you can’t do! Of course,” Mr Crowfoot began removing his rather smart jacket, “that does not apply to me at all. Vaginas are there to be filled so long as I can raise a stand.”

Jim looked. There seemed nothing amiss with Mr Crowfoot’s penis. It was standing very erect out of his trouser fly, the head shiny and purple, his fraenum taut and his shaft, if not possessing the smoothness of young Jim’s cock, had a certain cragginess which suggested strength and experience and, of course, age.

The study was nothing like Mr Crowfoot’s remembered Middle Eastern country; penises could be exposed and used—and they were!

Jim was now being given permission to touch. What should he do? What did he most want to do?

“How was that, young ladies?”

The two girls raised their heads. They looked flushed and their faces were wet. Their hair had been messed up and they looked dishevelled and delightfully vulnerable. Jim’s smile felt a little like the smile of the wolf, his lips were drawn a little back exposing his teeth.

They both nodded.

“You enjoyed each other—the experience?”

Again, the nods.

“I think Jim would like to kiss you both.”

Would he! To kiss those pretty faces and taste the other girl upon them. He stepped forward, first to Jenny reaching out and lifting her up so she stood facing him. Jim had stood opposite her many times in the office. But not like this and not with her looking like that. Not naked and most certainly not stepping closer so his penis touched her naked stomach and his lips her lips. It was a proper kiss and it was her tongue that slid into his mouth first. Her tongue, but no doubt tasting of Sophie. He sucked upon it and then thrust his own between her lips before pulling it from her mouth and running it across her face, licking the smooth wet skin. Something he could never have envisaged at the office, licking one girl’s sexual lubrication from another’s face. He then pulled Sophie to her feet and pressed against her, his erection hard against her smooth skin whilst licking her face and then pushing his tongue between her lips and finding her tongue mobile in response. In his excitement he pulled Jenny in too and there were three mouths together, open and kissing with tongues writhing over other tongues.

A chuckle from Mr Crowfoot, “I think Jim would like his penis sucked, girls.”

It was a total wet dream. The girls’ mouths slipped downwards from his as they began a descent to their knees. A slow descent with tongues and mouths at work upon him. Jim’s chest was heaving with the excitement of his arousal as he looked across to see Mr Crowfoot had now fully undressed and was watching the girls and Jim with his pleasure at the sight very evident—his penis as rigid as the carved representation on the walking stick he was leaning upon.

Jim watched the two girls sliding down his body. They did not hurry and their mouths and tongues touched him the whole way down, pausing, of course, to suck upon his own nipples. Pointless indicators that, in reality, men and women were only variations on a single theme. Men had vistigal nipples because women have the real thing. Men have penises because women have clitorises. We all start female but for men things change. Women very much like their nipples played with in sex and so do men, usually to a lesser extent. Jim was no different. Two young women, one to each breast. Amazing!

But it was not his nipples that the girls were aiming to suck. He had two nipples which made it easier for the girls: unfortunately, he had only the single penis, one between two. How useful to have two—providing they ejaculated separately!

But girls can share a penis as Jim saw; it was so unlikely they had ever done anything like that before, but had so recently been making love together that it seemed to come quite naturally to them. Jim watched them lower their heads to his penis, one either side; their lips touching the knob, one to the left, one to the right; and then without a word, Sophie’s lips slid over and Jenny moved down the shaft. And they did it alternately; Jenny slid back up the shaft, whilst Sophie went down the other side so that Jenny could absorb the knob into her mouth. Beautiful teamwork.

Wonderful to watch and even easier to see when Mr Crowfoot’s cock hove into view and the girls swopped over onto his penis. A respite from pleasure for Jim, but he could watch the girls at work much easier; their wet lips caressing his friend’s organ; Jenny’s lips around the old man’s glans, holding the bulb in her mouth whilst Sophie’s lips slid down the shaft. A repeat on his own penis but when they went back to Mr Crowfoot, Sophie lifted his penis up by it base and Jim watched the girls licking it together, absolutely like they were sharing an ice cream cone. Lovely to see the girls tongue tips meeting and wriggling together, perhaps especially when they did so right at the tip, teasing around the little mouth. How good, Jim thought, to see Mr Crowfoot suddenly spurt and his white semen pulse out onto the girls’ tongues and faces. What an erotic sight that would be.

Jim glanced down at his own penis, vertical, hard and rather wet from the girls’ mouths. Phew! He looked back at Mr Crowfoot only to see the girls going down and together running their tongues all the way down his shaft to his wrinkled and hanging scrotum and then taking one hairy ball each into their mouths.

And then they were back on him. At first his balls were treated. Such a thing! Each treated separately, caressed by a tongue whilst within a mouth, and caressed so gently—the feminine touch!

The girls then took it in turns to take his cock deep into their mouths, lips sliding down the shaft, tongue caressing. Jim reached and took one of the girls’ breasts in each hand. This, he thought, was fantastic. It could go on all afternoon!

But, rather unsurprisingly, it could not; it could not, at all, go on for the whole afternoon, not when Jennie tried burrowing her tongue into his urethra.

“Oh no, no, no!”

Jim had not done badly. But he was a young and inexperienced man unused to such sustained stimulation and Jenny pushed him over. He had been on the edge several times but was unprepared for the sudden tongue movement. Jenny must have known what his cry meant but she did not eject the penis or pull it from her mouth, rather she swirled her tongue and slid her lips in absolutely the right way. Jim’s orgasm and ejaculation were an electric, shuddering, ecstatic delight. Rarely better and actually quite long, and therefore prolific, but, nonetheless, that was it. That was it. The only way his penis could now go was down. Jenny, though, did not hurry to disengage and kept gently massaging him before, finally, letting him fall from her mouth.

Sophie had been watching and leant in and the girls kissed—French kissed. In Jim’s mind the thought of Sophie now tasting his semen as Jenny had done; the more confirmed when they drew apart as he could see his stuff white on both their tongues, actually hanging a little between them. Sophie turned to him and caught his descending penis between her lips and sucked the whole thing in so he could see not a half inch of his penis. And then she looked up at him. Such a sight; his colleague looking up at him with great round eyes (and his penis in her mouth); it was not something he was going to forget.

So frustrating to have to stand with limp, now useless, penis whilst his friend, old Mr Crowfoot took his pleasure with the two young girls. Jim had to admit that, despite being old enough to be their grandfather, Mr Crowfoot did it well. Long practice no doubt.

Not for Mr Crowfoot to tarry too long at oral games. Perhaps he was showing Jim how to take things slowly and recover equilibrium. He put one arm around each of the girls and walked them to the window and stood there looking out and talking with them. A bit of a rest, an interlude. Jim had to smile at the three bottoms in a row. Old Mr Crowfoot’s slightly sagging one in the middle and two delightfully smooth and rounded bottoms either side. Mr Crowfoot was talking about his garden; how pretty it had been once upon a time but now was just a pale shadow of what it had been. He had a gardener once a week but in his father’s day…

Would the girls remember any of what he was talking about? Might they perhaps remember his invitation to use it for sunbathing if they wished. He assured them it was private and then asked if either had sunbathed naked and Jim was most interested to hear Jenny had a couple of times in the dunes at a beach near her parent’s home. She even volunteered that once—so it seemed it was more than a ‘couple’ of times she had been sunbathing—she had dropped off to sleep and awoken to see a man watching her. More than watching her. He had his cock out and was wanking.

Jenny described her shock, pulling herself up on her towel, but the man had not come any closer, just doing a step backwards. Jenny said he had been most apologetic; had thought her asleep—which she had been; and had been so enjoying seeing her that he had got his penis out; he assured her he had had no intention of touching, just looking; had just meant to look, come and go. So apologetic, so nicely spoken, so embarrassed. Had even almost fallen over as he had pulled his swimming trunks up. That had actually been funny. And he had mentioned he was there with his wife and children on the beach. Just a nice, professional, middle aged man who had seen something rather nice. A nice, terribly embarrassed man who had been caught, perhaps, out of character.

Quite unlike her, she said, Jenny had asked him if he would like to finish what he had started. He had seemed so nice that she had felt it almost unfair not to let him; had even asked if he would like to see her touch herself and, of course, he had said ‘yes.’

It had been so good seeing his cock rising again in his trunks. She had insisted he took them right off and had held her hand out and she had taken them. Probably it had given him an extra thrill to suddenly be completely exposed like that; to be standing naked on the dunes with a very sizeable erection and watched by a young woman. Handing over his rather limited clothing to the young woman was perhaps not a real risk as, given her nakedness, her towel and bag, it was unlikely she would run off leaving him naked and having to go back to his wife and make some explanation of how he had lost his trunks whilst everyone watched. The handing over of his trunks was nonetheless a token for his good conduct.

“And did he?” It was Sophie asking the question.

“Oh yes, he very clearly enjoyed watching me.”

“What did you do?”

“Much the same.”

“No!”

And Jenny had explained she had treated this voyeuring father to the sight of her masturbating. She had played with both breasts and her ‘pussy’ whilst he had watched and stroked his own thing. He had kept his distance but, she said, how arousing she had found seeing him standing up above her with his cock right out. She said she had loved the way his balls had swung as he had stroked. ‘A pair of big hairy nuts’ was her phrase, which surprised Jim. That was not what he normally heard from Jenny. She had made him swing them.

And Jenny had shown this man everything, had very much spread her legs as she played.

“Weren’t you worried he might just lunge forward on top of you?”

“Didn’t really think he would. No, I was sure of that and I was right, but there was something quite special seeing him come like that. I mean, I was looking up at him, not your usual sort of angle and seeing his stuff shooting out like that. I don’t think girls are usually so fussed about that; it’s what men do, but that changed me. I have a bit of a thing, Sophie, about men coming now. I do like to see men shoot.”

Demur, willowy Jenny liked to see ejaculating penises! What information Jim was gaining about his colleagues.

“Well, Jenny, anytime you want to sunbathe in my garden you are most welcome.”

“And Mr Crowfoot you are most welcome to come and look at me.”

“And come?” asked Sophie.

“Especially that. All over me if you want.”

Jim smiled as the three of them turned from the window. Such a sight. Mr Crowfoot had his arms around them for support, not having his walking stick in hand, yet both of the girls seemed to have their hands on his ‘stick’ for support. So annoying for Jim that his ‘stick’ was no longer useful, not even a stick really; he would have liked the girls to lean on him as well.

Jenny might well have liked seeing cocks spurting but that was not Mr Crowfoot’s plan. Like Sophie had been before, both girls were placed over the back of the Chesterfield and their legs spread. It was an easier pose for an old man with a leg not working quite right. Of course he could easily have placed himself upon the prone body of one or either girl as she settled herself with open legs along the Chesterfield but then there would have been the getting up and getting down again when the other girl had taken the first one’s place. Clearly Mr Crowfoot wanted to enjoy both girls. And why not? There were two there. Jim wondered quite what Mr Crowfoot and he might do if they were able to entice four or five girls into the study at once. A school party maybe; or a visit of architectural students to see the old house; or perhaps young women interested in old books.

Two bottoms at just the right height spread on the back of the Chesterfield, all so very easy for the old man; would have been too for Jim, had he not already spent his allowance. Jim was impressed by how long the old man took; how many times he swopped vaginas until finally he released within Jenny.

“Jim, would you fetch my stick.” Only with that safely in hand did he allow himself to exit from Jenny. An unusual sight, an old and naked man with shrinking and leaking penis, making his way across the room leaning on a walking stick.

Would the girls remember any of their conversation by the window; would Jenny suggest at the office she might like to go sunbathing in Mr Crowfoot’s garden? Might that be a memory? Jim, though, could not see Mr Crowfoot actually being able to join her. The effect of the room seemed confined to the study itself and not the rest of the house. Perhaps, though, Mr Crowfoot and he might spy on her from the house. The excitement of the voyeur, even though they most likely would invite her into the study later and see everything that they might wish to see.

He had thought of how good it would be to chase the girls around the house naked, the idea of giggles and laughter being so pleasing but he was sure their faces would turn to shock in finding themselves running across the hall floor with naked feet, pursued by an equally naked and excited Jim. A shame because the idea of sunbathing or simply walking naked in the garden with Jenny or perhaps Sophie, Jenny and Mr Crowfoot was very pleasing. He would like to have his arms around the girls’ naked bodies, perhaps patting both bottoms as they walked. Sex outdoors in the sunshine. It did sound a very satisfying idea. Walking naked in the garden with just Mr Crowfoot, even with his penis handled walking stick, did not have quite the same appeal; even if the sun was just as hot and the skies just as blue.

Monday morning and Jim was just a little nervous of what he might find. How would the girls, Sophie and Jenny, react when he met them; would they have any memory of what had transpired within Mr Crowfoot’s study; how would they account for the ‘missing time’ within?

They were all smiles in the kitchen, telling Jim how much they had enjoyed the visit to the old house, how delightful and charming Mr Crowfoot had been; they would not have thought an old man and an old house could be so interesting; perhaps they might visit again.

Jim wondered if there was indeed, perhaps, some residual memory, more of remembered pleasure and release than a concrete memory of events. They seemed unaware of their time in the study and certainly did not say anything to Jim about any surprise at finding themselves so wet in their knickers when leaving the house.

Did they have any recollection of having been so amorous together? Did, if they looked at Jim’s trousers, any thought of his penis come into their minds, perhaps even thought of licking or sucking it? It seemed not, or if they did they hid it well.

The girls chatted away seemingly unconcerned and unaware of anything, not least that Jim was standing there with his penis hard and pointing upwards in his trousers. As unaware as anything that his thoughts were very much on what lay beneath their clothes; unaware that he had actually seen both of their, now no doubt relaxed and unengorged, clitorises; indeed had had his penis in both of their mouths. All things he would very happily have done again that morning but, at least, what they were saying gave promise of him doing just that another day. Another day in the future. They might visit again.