The Triumphs of the Past
By Maximilian Cummings
There is something of a feeling of exquisite comfort for the man to slip his erect penis into a woman’s vagina (to use medical terminology) even disregarding, if you can, the sexual aspect and prospect of orgasmic release of seminal fluid and spermatozoa. There is something simply comfortable about the act of penetration rather like, or, perhaps, it is not such a close analogy, slipping one’s feet into a pair of old slippers. Woman and girls found a very similar experience in getting into and settling down into the old sprung leather of the passenger seat of the Triumph 2500 and gazing out over the long bonnet.
To return to the analogy, once firmly lodged inside the warm comfortable interior it was unlikely they would withdraw from the car without the experience of orgasm if the journey was long enough.
My increasing surprise and pleasure in finding just what a babe magnet the Triumph was, led to unexpected sexual adventures, sometimes with quite young women, other times more mature. The opportunities with women my own age seemed less frequent, perhaps they were too busy with children to come and talk to a middle-aged mechanic however polished and attractive his car might appear. It was the older… and the younger.
It was not just me who noticed this phenomenon. At one show, next to me in the field, I recall an old geezer with plenty of miles on his clock standing looking daggers at me because of all those women around my 2500S particularly the one you could say was sporting a fine pair of ‘Sabrinas.’ His Rover P4 just didn’t seem to be attracting the same sort of attention, despite the interest of the Straight Six engine and the leather bench seat. I liked the ‘wood-and-leather-with-a vengeance’ style. It was the archetypal bank manager’s motor of the day and he certainly kept the car well. I thought he could use that bench seat to good effect, if only the ‘babes’ asked for a ‘ride,’ and it had that sort of gear lever and knob Jane seemed to like. We got chatting later and what he didn’t know about old motors struck me as not worth knowing. He liked the 2500S, sat in it and even noted how pristine the gear knob looked, though he thought I should recover the seats. ‘Bit stained,’ he said, and it was obvious he knew why.
Older and younger babes indeed. Let’s start with the younger.
Eighteen years old—she was that young, even younger than Heulwen. It made me feel really awful—well, not really! I was going north, mentioned it to a friend and found myself agreeing to take his daughter back to uni. as a passenger in January. The Triumph is an estate and has plenty of room in the back, and that was really why he suggested me taking her back, knowing the vehicle—but not as well as he thought—had the space. A nice, intelligent, bubbly sort of girl, freckles like Heulwen but there the resemblance ended. Tall, not far off six foot, a bit too tall for a girl really. Freckles not uncommon with red or auburn hair and she had that, straight and long.
It was cold outside, snow piled up either side of the roads. No more snow was forecast so it was not foolish to travel, but across the countryside a winter wonderland or at least the appearance of it from a warm car. A warm car with a particular and unusual influence upon women and one I could see was gradually affecting young Eleanor. A certain flush to her face and the occasional movement of her bottom upon the leather seat. It amused me. The T2500S was up to his tricks again. I glanced down at the gear stick. Erect as always and with the overdrive in the ‘on’ position. Always when I touched that I now thought of Heulwen’s little button sliding over it, hard and rough on her clit.
Eleanor was no better after a visit to a service station for coffee and necessary relief. Has she perhaps fingered herself in the ‘Ladies’ a bit, somewhat sordid really, but had she been surprised at how wet she was—if, indeed, she was wet and I rather thought she was very much in just that so pleasing feminine state.
A few miles further on and a sigh, a swallowing.
“You all right, Eli?”
“Yes,” it came out as rather a squeak.
Obvious she was just so aroused. Another wriggle on the seat revealed half an inch of white thigh twixt skirt and long sock. I had not realised—and why should I—that under her thick woollen skirt she was wearing were not thick black tights but socks that went up beyond her knees. A particular favourite of mine. I am not one for nylons and suspender belts but, rather like Fiona’s long white leather boots, I have a ‘thing’ about long woollen socks for women whether under skirts or worn without anything else. My thing—it’s what I like. And that glimpse of young white thigh was very pleasing. But eyes on the road.
“It’s very warm in here.”
I didn’t think so, but turned the heating off. A few miles further on she turned it on again. It had got rather chilly. A few miles further on and she was really wriggling in her seat.
“Eric, do you have a girlfriend?”
“No, Eli, not at the moment.”
“What do you do for sex?”
I glanced at her, “what do you do?” I rather thought the question best answered by her first of all. The journey was becoming rather interesting.
“I had a boyfriend, but we broke up so… and, so, well, you know…”
A quick turn towards her and a raising of eyebrows.
“You know… fingers.” She had said it. Just like that. Excellent. The idea in my mind so pleasing.
“And very nice and effective I’m sure. Good to know your own body and what you like. Nice to be able to relax all cosy in bed…”
“You wank then?”
That was quite direct. “All men do, I’m sure. Some more than others. And I have a lady friend, we’re not going out, but she helps me out sometimes and I help her.” Almost true, I had merely said the singular whereas it should have been ‘ladies’ plural. “But other times…”
“So, you do wank. Have you a foreskin?”
“Last time I looked, yes!”
“My ex. I expect it’s different with one.”
“I expect so too, but I’ve only wanked the one—mine.”
“Can I wank you? Would you like me to?”
Three cheers for the Triumph, his engine purring away in front of me. The prospect of this delightful young, and she was young, redhead manipulating my penis suddenly in view and, no doubt, me returning the compliment. It was obvious, so obvious, she need fingers at work—mine or at least hers.
“Eli, it seems,” I glanced significantly at her moving knees and not to be outdone by her rather forward words, “you need to frig yourself. Go on, it’s nice and warm in here, pull your knickers down and get those fingers working. I’ll concentrate on the driving. You just go on—you need it, I can see. A nice thing to do, especially with the warm air blowing up from the footwell at your…” A bit matter of fact, a bit basic, not a hint of a question from me, or her for that matter, as to quite why she was in that state. Just a logical development of her questioning. Well, sort of, anyway.
Eyes on the road. Eyes on the road but, not easy not to glance, not easy to watch her hand making her skirt move, not easy to avoid taking a great deal of interest in rather more of her white thighs exposed above those long, long socks.
“Can I get you out?”
“Not much I can do to stop you. I’ve got to keep my hands on the wheel.” She was aroused, really aroused. On heat even. Was it perhaps that special day, that ovulation day when women can be at their most sexual? Had the car caught her just right? Difficult really to fight her off whilst driving. I would have to pull off the motorway onto the hard shoulder—but I hardly wanted to stop her, not at all!
Young fingers reaching, young wet fingers tugging down my zip, such delicious anticipation for me, young fingers entering and extracting, bringing me out into the open.
“Mmmm yummy, big.”
Well, good to hear a compliment but perhaps a bit generous. Still, Gerard might be rather small! She was looking at me and then down at my penis with sparkling eyes. This was perhaps a good opportunity to find somewhere to stop the car. A big blue sign went by revealing four miles to the next junction—or five to a service area.
Foreskins do that, and she was tugging away both at speed and irregularly.
“Yes, but slower and steadier. Go for rhythm.” You have to teach these young girls you know! Her right hand on my cock, left up her skirt. Another mile went by.
“I want to see it all.” Both hands undoing my belt, opening my trousers, tugging the whole assembly up through the slit in my boxers. “Mmmm lovely, aren’t balls so sexy?”
I didn’t know about that. They were certainly rather important to the sexual act… or acts for that matter.
“Who’d be a lezzie, with a handful of these and that?”
Well, me for one—if I was a woman! Handfuls of girls for me please!
Three miles to go.
“I want to fuck.”
I glanced at her. She was rather red in the face, her eyes moist and sparkling—and no doubt something else was more than moist, though I did not know about ‘sparkling.’ A girl in heat certainly. “I want it inside me.”
“You on the Pill or something?”
A scowl, “No, nothing. Me and Gerard…”
I winced, “Gerard and I,” came straight out. What was it with these young people putting themselves first? “Condoms?”
“Any in your bag?”
I could see her shaking her head. Well, there were none in the glovebox either, nor my pocket.
A real groan from her. “Eric, I’m so wet. I want your prick.”
She certainly had it. In her right hand. All of a sudden her hand was withdrawn and clearly heading back under her skirt.
“No, Eli, wipe your hand on my handkerchief first. You don’t want any of my leaking sperm getting where it shouldn’t.” I fished in my pocket. Big, blue and spotted, fresh from my chest of drawers that morning. Still folded.
A bit of a look from her, but she did as I asked before spending the next two miles which at 75mph was less than two minutes, frigging away under her skirt. I elected to leave at the junction. Service areas tended to be pretty crowded, but would I find anywhere near the junction to park before Eli came, with the risk she would lose interest in what was sticking up from my trousers. Was it sticking up! I was rather hoping to get my hand up that skirt and touch the bare flesh above her socks—and rather more.
Indicator going, I turned the wheel and we crossed the dashes into the de-acceleration lane of the junction and just as we did that, with my eyes concentrating on the road and glancing up at the rear-view mirror, Eli leaned over and took my ‘peeled’ cock into her mouth. Wonderful, so hot and wet and to have this lovely red head teen just do that, her auburn hair there in my lap as I braked. “Not now, Eli, I’m slowing and there’s cars next to us.”
She sat up and I slowed to a stop at the junction behind one other car waiting to go onto the roundabout. I looked to my right. A Land Rover Discovery with a rather fine-looking woman in the passenger seat. Possibly, from her higher level, if she looked down, she would see my exposed erection, but she was looking straight ahead. The car ahead of me moved and I reached the roundabout. It was busy and I could not get straight on. Beside me now a Ford Focus with another woman sitting in the passenger seat, a young woman with a man driving, probably her husband. She was looking at me but with no idea I was sitting there with my trousers open and, surrounded by white cotton with big blue spots (I have a bit of a taste for snazzy underwear—when I wear it), was my very exposed and erect penis—peeled and with the knob wet, fresh from Eli’s mouth.
A relief to be on the roundabout but it was not one of those junctions in the middle of nowhere leading off into the countryside but very much a suburban location. Without quite a drive it was not going to be a nice little stop in a country lane as I had done with Jane and Heulwen in the past. The sight of a ‘To Let’ sign made me indicate left and we drove into the deserted yard of a modern factory building. Not a pretty location but devoid of people and cars. We could be private enough. I reversed in against the building and stopped the engine and turned to Eli. I could now give her my full attention. I reached and began pulling up her jumper, anxious, having the opportunity, to see and feel her breasts. She did nothing to stop me, indeed her hand kept moving under her skirt, as I undid the buttons of her blouse, nor did she stop me when my hand cupped over the warm material of her brassiere.
“I’m going to come, I’m going to come, just when you touch my nipples.”
My fingers slid under the edge of her brassiere and over the warm softness of her young breasts, her little nipple hard in the palm.
“Almost, almost…” and she was down in my lap again. Quite remarkable her enthusiasm. Not driving I could look down at her bobbing head and at the movement within her skirt—and move my hand within her brassiere. Wonderful.
“I’m not… I can’t… please… fuck me.”
I wasn’t going to without ‘protection.’ I reached and pulled her hand from under her skirt and took over ‘operations.’ Marvellous to see and touch the join of bare flesh to woollen sock, and then to freely slide my hand upwards feeling her warmth and then her liquidity. What would my friend, her father, have thought—of me? So good to feel her curls—probably ginger like her head—and then her soft lips and all the other lovely bits girls have. Fingers in her, thumb on her clit and my other hand stroking away within her brassiere, I made her come. I forced her into orgasm! So good to see her panting, wide eyed and just quivering with sexual release. A girl quite out of control.
“Again, please, again.”
I could have done anything with her. She was so far gone in arousal. I made her—well asked her—to undo her seat belt, swivel around to face me, bring her feet and knees up and sit with thighs apart so I could see ‘everything.’ So ginger, such wonderfully springy curls of copper wire surrounding her young sex. Fleshy lips, delightfully crinkly and her vagina showing dark and open, a cavern I would so like to have sent my penis in to explore but I could not risk what it would do and where all those naughty little spermatozoa would go exploring, swimming away and searching for a certain goal. I could not risk that. But good, very good, to this time watch my fingers touch and explore. A visual feast indeed. Seeing my fingers inside her and to feel her tight channel—insufficient room for the Triumph’s knob certainly, though enough for me! And, to see Eli undo her brassiere and play with her breasts.
And she came again, right there in that empty service yard. I could see her vagina opening and closing upon my fingers as she did so, could imagine what that’d feel like on my penis. I was torn between watching that and her face. Such a sight, a young woman having an orgasm.
She sat there looking dazed and blinking
“I need your prick in me,” she said, almost matter of factly, and she made as if to come across, her open exposed sex being pushed towards me, framed by her woollen skirt. The thought of having that hot, slippery slidey tight little sheath around my cock so enticing. And it was so close.
I swallowed, “Not today, Eli, not without…”
She pouted—and then her tongue came out and went slowly around her lips. Feminine wiles indeed! It certainly made my penis twitch.
“No! We can’t. Really, we shouldn’t.”
Such a pout and then such a scowl coupled with a shrug of her shoulders—and a wink. Both hands came across to my cock and played. What could be better—a young girl wanting to and playing with your cock? If she sucks it of course! And she did—again. As she sucked, I continued to play inside her skirt, fingers inside her, thumb to her clit, as she wriggled and moaned.
“I’m going to again—I really am—I’ve never…” Down went her head again. “Come with me. Come when I come, fill my mouth up, really fill it. I’m going to come and I’m going to make you come.”
Nobody in that big empty expanse of concrete to disturb that remarkable little scene. Did I want to fuck that sexually out of control little redheaded bundle of young girl? Did I! But she did what she said. As I pushed my fingers the harder and flicked away, she made me cum. Hot spurts, well it certainly felt hot enough rushing up my penis, into her mouth, her so mobile mouth, lips and tongue as she made girl orgasm noises.
And she did it so right. Letting me subside in her mouth and then sitting up and showing me that I had indeed filled her mouth. What dubious videos had she been watching? Showing me it on her tongue, glossing her lips with it and then swallowing.
All of a bit of a steamy experience. Knickers back on, skirt smoothed down, boobs and penis tucked away, we drove back out of the yard, onto the road and thence to the roundabout and slip road to the motorway.
“Three orgasms for you, Eli, one for me. You owe me!”
At our destination Eli said, “I don’t know what came over me. You could have... I would have…”
“If you, at the end of term, want a lift back from Uni….” I knew what I could have done but prudence had kept me in check. Good old Prudence!
“Perhaps,” she said, “I’ll be on the Pill then. How weird, to… with one of my Dad’s friends. What… we did… it was so really nice though. Maybe… it’d be kind of,” she shrugged her shoulders, “well, cool. I liked our ride and our chat and… I wouldn’t want you to see it as payment for the lift.”
I waved my hands, “no, no, my pleasure. Happy to give you a lift, without…” I left her in her room and walked down the stairs to my car. There it was, sitting there, big grin to its front. I raised my fingers casually towards my nose. Still there the scent of young girl. That had been rather good: hopefully I could not only offer but, indeed, give her a lift back at the end of term. I’d have to let her Dad know I was going to be up that way a little before term ended and casually make the offer that I could pick her up—without appearing too eager. Having sex with one of my friends’ daughters. Dear oh dear! I’d be livid if it was one of my own—but I didn’t have any daughters. I paused at the door of my car and thought of Jane and her swelling tummy, well, not yet anyway.
So, a rather pleasing little experience with a young girl all courtesy of the Triumph—it certainly seemed to be down to the car—and the possibility of more with her another day: but what of the mature women? I was pleasantly surprised at a show in the Spring to find the mature woman, I had seen before, come up to me and the car. She was that nicely spoken woman with greying hair and had a blue two-piece skirted suit on at the time before. She was in a green tweed suit this time and with her husband again, a big burly bloke as I described with a very memorable moustache. She had been keen on the car and had sat in the driver’s seat fondling, yes, that gear knob. I had not forgotten her, nor her words, “I wouldn’t mind a ride in this.” She, clearly, had not forgotten me—or at least the car.
“Oh, look, Derek, it’s that yellow Triumph 2000 again.”
‘2500’ I said automatically but then said how good it was to see them again. How had they been, what was their interest in Triumphs and classic cars & etc. Not actually Triumph people, more Morris Garages and why not? Nonetheless another opportunity to look at her thighs as her skirt was drawn up as she sat again in the driver’s seat. I hoped Derek did not notice the flash of my eyes downwards. Not really done to eye up another man’s wife—so that he knows, anyway.
Once seated she seemed disinclined to get out again and I talked cars with Derek and was a little surprised at just how many MGs he had. A wealthy man clearly. They came back again later in the day and I found myself taking afternoon tea with them in the refreshment tent (nice cake as well) and I got invited to visit for a weekend. And it proved to be a genuine, actually meant, invitation, when Maddie telephoned me and invited me for a weekend.
A very fine collection of cars and a very fine garage to keep them in. The Cotswold house was not exactly compact either. There was definitely money there and a considerable enthusiasm for the classic motor car particularly from Derek and it was pretty obvious I was going to be picking up some work. Derek had bought a rather clapped out MG Montego. Well, weren’t they all going to be clapped out? The fastest production MG ever made could certainly move with its 150bhp and top speed of 126mph and a 0-60mph in 7.3 seconds. And, yes, it was the estate version Derek had acquired. Was I really becoming an estate specialist? Turbo charged it was fast but tended to end up rather worn out after a few years unlike the more sedate Austin versions including the ‘Countryman’ with its Conran designed upholstery and those extra rear facing seats for the kids in the estate back. Red piping to the seating and trim on the MG—very nice! Classic car? Well, sort of. I know quite a few people who have retained a soft spot for the car. The Montego was certainly roomy, you had to give it that. It needed a lot of work and the end result was not going to justify the expense—at least in value terms. But Derek was keen, and I was more than happy to agree to sort it out. It would surprise Heulwen. It was rather more modern than she was used to me working on.
Rather than eat in we drove to country pub. We drove in the Triumph as they, particularly Maddie, seemed keen to ride in it. More than ride as Derek and I had a few glasses of beer and it seemed sensible given the country roads to let Maddie drive back. I sat in the front with her wondering if ‘he’ would get up to any of his ‘tricks.’ In the dark I could barely make out her hand on the gear knob but could certainly see it was resting there for longer than was strictly necessary and with a rather more mobile hand around it than my normal action which was a fairly firm and quick movement when needed. I did not normally fondle his knob!
And then a hand on my thigh in the darkness. A squeeze—and a pretty clear indication of sexual interest. I was being propositioned by a mature woman with her husband there in the back seat. What to do? Well Maddie was a not unattractive, if mature woman. I had been—was still—fooling around, so to speak, with Jane—had even got her pregnant—so why not play with Maddie? Young girls and older girls, why not? I reached beyond the gear stick and rested my hand on a nylon clad knee. Now where on Earth was this going to lead—particularly with big, burly Derek and his moustache in the back seat?
It did not lead anywhere, quite then, though it led far enough for her hand to rise up my thigh and rest upon what had become rather more than a bulge in my trousers. As Maddie talked away, I felt my zip being lowered. It had happened most recently with Eli though that had been in the light and importantly not with, say, her father sitting on the back seat. Once more I felt my penis being extracted from my trousers. We were driving down country lanes without street lighting but, had there been, then Derek in the back seat would surely have seen? It was too dark at the moment perhaps out beyond any village—but was he sitting on the left or right, or even in the middle? Behind me he would surely see nothing but over on the nearside behind Maddie or in the middle… quite another matter. Was it the Triumph driving Maddie to take such risks? Fingers around my erection, tugged out into the open and then as I sat there, caught between sexual excitement and fear, I felt it slowly being peeled.
“Turn right here,” a male voice came from the back seat, from behind me. I think Derek had spoken before, but I had not really noted his location. As we turned into another anonymous, unsignposted country lane I felt my cock being pulled over to the left as if Maddie was using it as a joystick on an aeroplane. A ‘joystick,’ not an unapt simile.
Gentle masturbation, my foreskin being slid in the darkness and fingers running lightly over shaft and knob. A pleasant experience, well, but for the husband in the back. It rather worried me.
“Here we are,” came from the back and I felt the hand withdraw reaching no doubt for a different knob to change down gear.
My hands dropped to my trousers as we made a left turn. I struggled to tuck myself away before we reached the house and the outside security light came on. Not easy to tuck an erection into flies but I was just in time before we were bathed in a strong Tungsten light.
A chuckle from Maddie. “I do enjoy driving your car, Eric.” Her hand was on the gear knob and fondling it.
A nightcap with coffee and then I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. A knock at the door as I was unpacking. It was Maddie,
“Anything you need, Eric, glass of water? Are you going to read a bit? It’s a bit early for bed. Derek of course has gone straight there and will be asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow. I’ll take a shower. Don’t go to sleep just yet…”
A nod is as good as a wink to a blind man, eh? I was showered, teeth brushed and indeed reading by the light of my bedside lamp when the door slowly opened again. I put down ‘Classic Cars’ and the article on the Caterham 7 and looked up at Maddie. Gone the outdoor clothes, gone everything but a long silk dressing gown and that was not exactly tightly belted. I think she had posed it before coming through the door because as she stepped forward and closed the polished wooden door behind her it slid open a little way revealing not just the deep valley of her breasts but rather more. I had not expected a completely denuded mons veneris, there was not even a landing strip. My eyes had dropped to that plump bulge over the pubic bone. A bare slit, little girl like on such a mature woman. On its own it would have lacked something had it not been for the peeking out labia. Her legs being somewhat apart I could see them hanging there as she moved closer. Generous, aroused clearly, actually quivering and glistening with secretions, I thought they dressed her mature bare vulva to perfection. It needed those bits of flesh.
And what is the etiquette when your hostess comes into your bedroom? Do you get up and stand? Well, I did that in both ways, my penis rising upwards as I pulled back the covers and got to my feet. In the nature of pyjamas it poked out through the fly. A smile from Maddie as she let the silk dressing gown slip from her shoulders to the floor and she lowered herself to her knees and within seconds of her entering the room my penis was in her mouth. My hostess was fellating me as my hands reached down and lifted her large and rather pendulous breasts with their cherry like—and they were—big nipples.
It was copulation. Some foreplay, some finger work and certainly plentiful nipple sucking. From kneeling on the floor to going beneath the bedclothes together, Maddie’s hand reaching and turning off the light. Cuddling, kissing, nuzzling and general entwining of naked flesh. Maddie was deliciously aroused, so mobile, so sexual and clearly more than a little experienced. Of course, there was rather more to her than Heulwen or Eli for that matter. Some roly-polyness in places but that made her the softer! She was certainly more than ready to be penetrated. Sopping down there, running with lubrication, indeed probably secreting more than I was going to when I ejaculated! And there was plenty to feel—soft and generous labia, that little denuded valley and prominent clitoral hood shielding something which was also particularly prominent. And within all that her moist cave for me to explore. It was not a matter of tentative probing with a single finger: I could probably have got my hand in. Well, certainly Heulwen’s little hand! Four fingers and then I felt one of hers join me.
“Three babies make you a bit stretchy, you know.”
I took Maddie on her back, her ankles over my back, my hard erection burrowing deep—‘balls deep’ as they say. And that was apt. Fully engaged, pausing as I engaged Maddie’s mouth with my own, I felt her fingers, both hands, on my balls. Always so good to be fondled there as you copulate—or engage in any other sexual activity for that matter, but she was not so much fondling as easing them into herself. And she did it! I was lying atop this so sexual mature woman with not only my penis in her but the rest of my genitalia! That was strange! Of course, with the slightest bit of copulatory movement out they popped again. Maddie laying eggs!
More energetic copulation, creaking bedsprings and so on. With Derek no doubt fast asleep I had no need to worry about noise. Bouncing up and down, sloshing away as happily as anything, it was all very good. Just what the doctor ordered, if you like. What a promising start to the weekend. Good company, some fine cars to inspect, a really good meal out with good beer (Timothy Taylor’s Landlord if you are interested) and a good strong cum.
“I shouldn’t stay.” Maddie slipped from my bed, picked up her dressing gown and I saw a quick silhouette as she went through the door, still naked, carrying her gown and with her thighs tight together. Clearly, she did not want to drip on the carpet. What with her secretions and my own addition, there was no doubt quite a risk of that happening, and the carpets were very fine throughout the house. I heard her bedroom door open and close and then I went out like a light. Copulation and beer does that to one.
I awoke late to the sound of a knock on my door. How nice to be brought tea in the morning. It was Maddie again in her silk dressing gown. I blinked and made the usual morning pleasantries and thanks and watched her go over to the window and draw the curtains letting the morning sun flood in right through the silk of her dressing gown making it almost transparent and showing every curve of her—well a little voluptuous—body. She stood looking out and I lay there looking at her. My already erect penis, that usual morning stiffness, disinclined to go down at the sight. It took me back to a very youthful experience of the effect of light behind objects, a camping holiday when, several nights running I had stood in the darkness and watched a particular tent where a couple, no doubt completely inexperienced at camping, got both ready for bed and for making love—with their camping light on. Either they put it one side of their tent or the other but if I stood the other side, there they were in black silhouette against the light, outlined in the orange nylon of the tent removing clothes. It had been so good to stand there and watch her undoing her shirt and then, with that removed, watch her unclipping her brassiere and seeing her boobs bounce out, their shape, even the points of her nipples, clearly shown in black silhouette. A lot to the imagination of course but the mind is good at that. So good to stand there in the darkness of the campsite, a generously spaced campsite, and wank with penis out of my shorts as I watched. Amusing to see his genitalia revealed in silhouette, particularly when it was sticking up in the air as if a cut out in black paper complete with hanging dangly things.
Such an erotically charged sight on the second night when the girl leant in, boobs swinging blackly, her mouth opening in perfect silhouette and taking his cock in her mouth. Looking at Maddie I smiled. My cock had been as extended then as it was now, and I could still remember the ecstasy as I let fly with youthful enthusiasm in the girl’s direction towards her bobbing head in the blackness of the night.
“Lovely morning. Come and look.”
It wasn’t as if Maddie had not seen my penis, and had rather more than felt it. Even so I tied my pyjama cord securely with my penis’ head trapped underneath, the hanging jacket of my pyjamas safely obscuring the securely tied erection bound tightly against me. A good and modest plan only the effect of walking was to rub the knot of the cord against my fraenum. Walking masturbation really.
Outside the sun was up and the colours of their garden, the green of the front lawn and the bright yellow of the T2500S below assaulted my newly opened eyes.
“I do like your car. Drink your tea and then… I’m going to have a bath. Do you want one? If so our bath’s a large one and, why waste water, there’s room for two. Derek’s gone off already to buy a paper and do some shopping. He’ll be away for an hour, so it won’t be three in the bath!” Maddie had turned to me and there was an opening of her eyes wider and a clear tease to her smile. “That’d be a nice squash! See you then, in a minute or two? Our bedroom, at the front left.” She turned towards the door, her hand reaching and tugging at a free end of the bow to my pyjama cord. Clearly, as intended, it undid and my trousers fell leaving me half naked with my erection poking right out. At the door, she turned, very clearly looked straight at my penis and winked.
What had I fallen into? The car might have been a catalyst or perhaps just a performance enhancing additive to her already high sex drive, but Maddie was clearly a very sexual woman. She no doubt kept Derek on his toes—well polished and well used I was quite sure.
Slightly odd walking into their bedroom, into the centre of their marital privacy, seeing Derek’s pyjamas casually discarded on the bed, family photographs on the chest of drawers and the door to the en-suite a little open. I had been invited in and I went through into the bathroom. A remarkably generous and very well-appointed bathroom with one of those big oval side by side baths complete with Maddie—and bubbles. There was, perhaps, room for three but that would have been a strange experience. To sit side by side with her or facing? I chose the more traditional either end of the bath approach. There was nothing I could do about my erection so I simply took off my pyjamas accepting that I would be stepping into the bath with it swinging around and engorged in a manly way. Where to put my feet? There was room to sit with legs parallel, but Maddie opened her legs as I was getting in and I ended up with one of her feet between my thighs and one of my feet between hers. I knew she was going to touch my penis with her toes and she did—straightaway.
“I like to see a young man’s cock all hard and ready.”
And she kept it like that whilst we talked and planned the day, her toes easing up and down it. It was just lovely sitting in the warm water, watching her big breasts bob up and down in the water when she or I moved.
Good after a time to be invited to wash her, “Mind my hair, don’t get that wet.” The hair on her head was, of course, the only hair she had. Very pleasant to roam with slippery, soapy hands and have her do the same to me. She seemed to particularly enjoy how my balls in a very slack scrotum floated around between my legs, “Like exotic sea creatures,” she said.
And then there was fellatio. So good to be invited to stand, come towards her, lean over her with hands on the edge of the bath and present my cock to her mouth. Don’t I love to be sucked!
And there was fucking in the bath, Maddie lowering herself down onto me as we sat with splayed thighs either side of each other’s hips: but not a conclusion then. Out of the bath, wrapped in bath towels we went to the bed. I could not resist returning the favour and pushing my head up into her towel and finding just what Maddie’s so generous nether lips felt like in my mouth. Soft and succulent of course. A real treat!
Maddie riding cowgirl. Not a little thing like Heulwen bouncing on me but a mature woman with rather more to her, strong thighs to her still shapely legs, my penis up inside her as she rode, my hands to her breasts. Plentiful flesh on the move.
“You’d better cum now.”
And I too heard the sound of a car’s tyres on the gravel outside.
“He’ll put things away first, but you’d better come. Empty those balls in me, make me nice and full.”
I thought I had better do as I was told though my instinct was to leap from the bed, grab pyjamas from the bathroom and race with them in hand, naked and penis swinging all over the place for the safety of my bedroom.
I indeed did as I was told but also did the running thing, naked and still erect perhaps even leaving the odd drop of late ejaculate on the carpet as I bolted across the landing into my room, leaving a recently fucked Maddie lying there with an amused expression and her legs apart on the bed. I could even see in the quick glance I gave it as I grabbed my pyjamas, clear evidence of what I had been doing right there between those generous swollen labia. No Derek on the stairs to see a naked man hurrying from cuckolding him, no need to think up some implausible excuse. I closed my bedroom door and felt safe. Even as I stood there, I heard footsteps on the stairs and heard Derek say before he closed his bedroom door behind him,
“Did you have a nice bath, dear?”
I was sure I had left nothing of my presence behind me. No doubt Maddie would have got back into bed, was perhaps lying there with a book as Derek came in; no evidence there had been two of us in the bath—except perhaps the two bath towels but even with those, it might well have been that Maddie had used two. I had left nothing behind to reveal what had happened. Well, apart from between her legs but she would be hiding that very carefully, of course.
At breakfast I felt a little sheepish. Had sat there, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper on my own before Derek and Maddie reappeared. Croissants, local honey and jam, toast and marmalade and fresh coffee—out on the patio with the sunshine. Perfect.
A day spent on cars in the morning, lunch at a pub and a visit to a National Trust place in the afternoon, all in the sunshine. Another visit from Maddie at bedtime and yet a further time in the bath in the morning, Derek, this time, having gone both for the paper and, apparently, a walk. It was most convenient, and I took full advantage—or was that Maddie who took full advantage?
A drive out on the Sunday afternoon taking two cars, Derek in an MG Midget (a 1973 round arched Mk III, without those ‘Sabrinas’ that turned up on the US market), Maddie and me in the Triumph. Our port of call was on my way home, so it seemed sensible for me to drive on from there and for us to take two cars. We had hardly set out before Maddie was touching the gear knob and I was not surprised to find my penis being extracted. Nice to reach for a moment or two and slip my hand up her dress and, well not under her knickers, she wasn’t wearing any! Driving whilst being wanked—it has its attractions—and once or twice, when Maddie had checked Derek’s MG had dropped a little behind, she leant over and sucked my cock.
A picnic and then a walk across heathland and through woods. All very pleasant, chatting away in the sunshine, admiring the scenery and everything. Walking back Maddie stopped to tie a shoelace and I stopped with her as Derek walked on swinging his walking stick. The hum of bees was all around in the woodland but otherwise quiet, not the sound of traffic or even aeroplanes overhead.
From below me, as she tied her shoelace, “How quickly can you fuck me?”
“Just a quickie before he notices we’ve been a time.”
I wasn’t even hard let alone ready to cum! Maddie pulled me off into the trees and was unzipping me like in the car.
“This is no good.”
No good at all, too floppy, but a pair of mobile lips and tongue soon sorted that out. Maddie turned, lent on a fallen tree and raised the back of her dress up and spread her legs. How appropriate out in the ‘wild,’ or at least countryside, to take her in the way of the animals. A plump feminine bottom pushed in my direction: I pushed in its direction, up and into hot wetness and fucked away. No finesse, no taking it slowly, no subtlety: just a hard fuck as instructed. A quickie indeed.
There seemed to be no surprise from Derek when we caught him up, it had been that quick. A little too quick and mechanical really. Maddie was certainly a woman who needed sex—and I was hardly complaining. It had been an unexpected, if short, bonus. Something to muse upon as I drove home having left them in the car park toying with the idea, apparently of taking another walk.
Cars don’t have feelings, cars are just inanimate objects. Yet, yet, there could be no doubt the T2500—that T2500—does have an effect upon the women. I do not think it is just any Triumph 2000/2500 series or even the T2500S model. It is this one, this particular car but, if so, what exactly of the car? Over time you can replace most bits of a car. You might replace the engine, you might replace bodywork. Not the chassis though—is that the heart of a car? What makes this T2500S special, surely not the mundane chassis? Is it the particular gear knob which the girls seemed so much to like to fondle and, sometimes, become really intimate with? Is it, perhaps, those old, stained leather seats? I certainly would not be replacing knob or seats! Was it something less specific, less mechanical, less…what?
Was it really nothing to do with the car? Was it a magic spell placed upon… what was I thinking? This was the real world of facts and reality: not ‘Harry Potter and the Lubricious Limousine.’ You do not have mind influencing or mind controlling motor vehicles, but, but, but… there was something about that car. ‘He’ did have an effect on women.
There he sat, in the garage workshop, well-polished, oil levels checked, plenty of water and brake fluid topped up, tyres at the correct pressure, petrol in the tank. The car looked content and, if that wide grin was anything to go by, a bit more than that—smug, satisfied, satiated?