Quite a Proper English Lady

The middle-aged woman paid for her purchase and took the change with a smile and a nod as the man at the register thanked her for stopping. The widow had almost reached the door when she heard the cashier ask her if the cat had her tongue

"That's not fair. You know I love your accent," the older gentleman said as she reached the door.

"Good day to you sir," Emily Jameson said in her English accent while departing and laughed as she saw how delighted the fellow was.

"Odd duck," the 51 year old woman mumbled to herself as she started walking towards the house she shared with Marian, but her gait slowed as her mind raced.

It was Wednesday and for Emily that meant that the card shop down at the other end of the little town's main street would only have one employee on duty. The principal owner of the quaint little store, Warren Milton took Wednesdays off, leaving his son and part owner Tom in charge for the day.

"Tom Milton," Emily heard herself mumble as she slowed to a near stop and then looked back while mentally berating herself for her weakness.

Keep going home, Emily kept thinking. Nothing for you down there, but that wasn't correct because while Marian meant everything to her, there was one thing she couldn't provide. How Tom Milton had figured that out about her when she first moved to the United States six months ago was a mystery. Could she be that obvious - that transparent - and what of the audacity of the young scallywag to come on to her like he had? Must be an American thing, Emily concluded.

Yet she didn't have to do what the lad wanted. It wasn't like Tom had forced he to do what she did. Just the opposite. The rascal had charmed her knickers off, simple as that, but that was just one time. There was no need for Emily to ever return to that card shop again, but sadly she had. Every bloody Wednesday without fail for months but not this time, she vowed. Emily Jameson was a strong willed woman and nobody's fool.

Then why was she doing this little dance on the sidewalk, taking a couple of steps forward and then back as if she was walking into a windstorm? If anybody saw her they would think she was daft but fortunately the street was quiet.

"I'll just walk by," Emily announced to no one. That would show Tom.

So Emily walked back in the direction of the shop she had patronized, past that and further down to where the Wit's End stationary store. Emily stared straight ahead as she walked slowly past the window where the cashier was, and out of the corner of her eye she could see the shop was empty except for Tom who might not have seen her. Emily kept walking and after she was well past she glanced back and saw that the sign on the door that read OPEN had been turned around.

"OUT TO LUNCH" the sign read as it moved a little back and forth, and as in her heart she suspected all along she would in the end, after looking up and down the sidewalk to make sure nobody was watching the widow ducked into the path between the buildings. Emily raised her hand to knock but the door swung open and there stood Tom with a toothy grin on his face.

"Emily my dear," Tom declared as he stepped aside to let his visitor into the back room of the shop. "So happy to see you. What brings you to my establishment on this lovely morning?"

"Little early for lunch, isn't it Tom?" Emily said as she set her small parcel down on a table and added, "Be a dear and don't permit me to walk out without that."

"When you own the place, lunch is whenever you want it to be, and might I add that you look lovely today?"

"You might and you might be right," Emily quipped as she removed her light jacket.

"What's this? No brassiere today?" Tom said with a salacious grin as she looked at the unsupported breasts under the frumpy blouse, and when the widow offered no response Tom noted while reaching over to cup the globes, "that wasn't a complaint mind you. So what did bring you here?"

"You know bloody well what brought me here," Emily snapped, and as her eyes strayed down there was no missing the obscene bulge in the lad's baggy trousers. Is that thing always hard?"

"When you're in the neighborhood it just happens," Tom said with a shrug as he stopped kneading the older woman's breasts long enough to unbutton the top almost to the bottom, and after he slipped his hands in to cup the flesh directly he continued. "I saw you walk past the window slowly, trying to be sly with that sideways glance of yours, and right away my cock got hard. What do you make of that?"

"A bit crude."

"I bet your pussy was getting wet too," Tom suggested, and he moved a bit back when Mrs. Jameson reached for his belt. "What's the rush?"

"You have a business to run and I have things to attend to."

"But I love our interactions, getting to know each other better," Tom said as the plump nipples throbbed in his palms. "I have to say that I was a bit hurt at church last Sunday. I saw you at your - what is that lovely lady to you? Your sister I've heard."

"Marian is none of your concern. We are friends above all if you must know. We're co-authors of literature. Satisfied?"

"Anyway, when we passed your and your lady friend sitting in the pew I slowed but you looked straight ahead like we didn't know each other. I was hoping we could all meet each other."

"You were going to introduce me to your daughter?

"Chloe isn't my daughter."

"Sorry. I figured her for that being so young. Your wife then?"

"No, Chloe is my - friend. Much like Marian is your friend."

"Aren't their laws against having friends that young?" Emily said sarcastically, accentuating the word friends.

"She's older than she looks. 18 actually."

"No offense to the girl but she seems to be a strange friend for a lad who claims to prefer the company of older women," Emily reminded him.

"If you want to take her place I'll drop her like a bad habit, but so far you've been resistant to that - except of course for these Wednesday matinees," the brash fellow replied. "I'm curious, when you get home to you tell your friend Marian about what happened? Maybe you and her write stories about your antics here in the back room. It's the romantic in me, thinking that the prim and proper lady new in town writes dirty stories with her lover."

"Marian is my friend," an increasingly annoyed Emily said. "Tell me, is your father equipped like you?"

"Dad - why do you want to know that?"

"Because if he wanted to have a go at me I might be amiable to it, as long as he doesn't feel the need to babble the day away, like you do at times" Emily snapped as Tom's hands came off the older woman's breasts and to her ribs, and as her fingers glided up the moist skin and up under her arms he grinned as she squirmed. "Working up a sweat, aren't we? That's so nice to the touch, stroking the moist peach fuzz? Think how much better it would be if it was my tongue instead of my fingers."

"I'm going to leave."

"No you aren't because you're having as much fun as I am," the young rascal said, and after he finally let Emily get to his belt he concluded, "Anticipation."

"A little of that goes a long way," Emily muttered as she struggled with the belt for a moment until it gave way, and after that she yanked the slacks down and grabbed the elastic of his boxers while Tom's hands on her shoulders lowered her to her knees, eye-level with the obscene bulge that tented the fabric out.

"Think of how much better this would be if we were in a nice motel room with a bed instead of this," Tom suggested as Emily ran her hand outside the shorts over the bulge which was reaching over to his hip. "We could get naked and I could see your all of your body - not just bits and pieces like I have been."

"Use your imagination Tom," Emily said as she kept rubbing the bulge which for some reason acted like a pacifier to the overheated widow. "I'm 51 and am surely nothing like your little ingenue."

"You could find out if you like. Maybe you could join me and Chloe for dinner at my place sometime, and then afterwards," Tom explained and then moaned when the hand holding him squeezed. "Maybe Marian could join us."

"You haven't really proven you can handle one woman so suggesting you're man enough to satisfy three?" Emily chuckled. "Bollocks."

"Take those boxers off and you'll find out," Tom insisted.

"Is that right? They're kind of gooey. Have you sprung a leak?" she teased as she finally grabbed the elastic of the boxers to get them down, but even as she carefully eased them over the obstruction Tom's cock still lurched out and swayed in front of the kneeling widow, with the bulging veins along the shaft of the absurdly long organ seeming to pulsate.

"Damn!" Emily cursed as she saw the semen drool out of the tip of his circumcised weapon. "You're going to cum right away, aren't you? Going to stick that tallywacker in me, pop your load and then it's have a nice day?"

"You know better Emily. I can get it up again so fast," Tom insisted.

"How fast?"

"Right away. I swear. You know me by now," he pleaded.

"You better," Emily snapped as she leaned forward and licked the tip, and as she grabbed his balls in her palm and churned the orbs she slowly ran her lips down the length of his manhood.

As the woman had predicted, Tom came fast, his ejaculations starting even before her nose reached his pubic hair, but the widow barely blinked as she let the seed go right down her throat courtesy of her absent gag reflex. He kept coming while Emily's lips locked around the stump of his sex, and he finally had to disengage them when he went limp.

"Omigod Emily!" Tom nearly sobbed as he helped her to her feet. "That was so..."

Emily interrupted the lad as she leaned up and covered her mouth with hers, and although Tom resisted a little at first but after her tongue pushed between his lips he surrendered, dipping his tongue into her gooey mouth.

"Now what do we do to kill time until the leviathan rises once more?" Emily said after licking her lips.

"How about this?" Tom snickered as he moved the older woman to the table, and when he started to undo the lady's long skirt she stopped him and lifted it up to her waist.

"No panties. My, aren't you being daring today?" he chuckled as he lifted her bottom onto the table, and he parted her shapely thighs while he knelt between them. "Nice and furry, and I can tell you're wet because your pussy hair is shining around your sex. Time to make wetter."

The lady moaned as the brash boy buried his face in steaming delta, his tongue working furiously as Emily gripped the edge of the table and parted her legs even wider to accommodate, and while Tom might be a bit lacking in skill his enthusiasm more than made up for it.

"Your pussy smells like you're in heat," Tom gasped as he came up for air, but Emily grabbed his scalp and shoved his face back in, and kept a grip while moving his head around so his tongue finally found the mark.

"That's it!" Emily gasped as Tom's frantic tonguing brought her closer and closer to orgasm, but suddenly he stopped.

Mrs. Jameson was about to protest before she looked down and saw the lad's prodigious organ swaying in front of him, and while it might not have been fully erect at that point, after he brought his cock between her labia and eased it all the way in it surely was.

"Told you," Tom sneered as he began to slide in and out of the older woman's pussy. "How do you like me now?"

"Less nagging," Emily grunted in between thrusts. "More shagging!"

Tom's answer was to laugh and thrust harder, so much so that the table began to slam against the wall, and those thuds served as a back beat to the humping. Emily's hands were reaching up and grabbing the lad's biceps, and then moving over to tweak the rosy nipples on his smooth chest. When the older woman turned the tweaking into playful twisting the randy young man cried out a bit.

"Oh, so you want to play rough, do you?" he cackled, and after Emily stuck her tongue out and challenged him he added, "I don't think you can take it lady."

"Ha!" was the older woman's reply, and that as when Tom reached down, grabbed Emily under the ass and surprising her with his strength lifted her up.

Emily quickly wrapped her legs around the lad's butt and her arms around his neck, forcing his long probe deep into her. With her help Tom began bouncing her up and down, with Emily proving encouragement with filthy talk and biting around his collarbone. The two of them filled the room with their feral grunting as they struggled to hang onto each other while their bodies got sweaty and slippery.

Suddenly Tom lurched a bit to the side and they went back against the wall, with the proper English lady bearing the brunt of the collision as they crashed into the wall, A picture fell off that wall and shattered on the floor, but when Tom looked at his lover in horror her eyes were closed and she kept screaming for more.

"Harder! Harder!" Emily implored and Tom complied.

He came so after, sending what felt like an endless series of spurts into the woman, and Emily kept howling and clawing she he kept humping her into the wall until he felt her body shudder, her pussy crushing his slowly deflating member while Emily kept shuddering in his arms. Finally Tom managed to move a bit to the side so he could put the lady back on the table where they started as his dead dick slipped out.

"Emily! Are you alright?" he pleaded to the dazed looking woman.

"Course I am."

"The wall - I didn't mean to," Tom explained as he nodded down to the tangle of his clothes around his ankles. "I got tangled up in my underwear. We - you hit the wall hard."

"Did I" Emily kidded as he leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Actually, that was great fun when the picture came off the wall."

"Still, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"And you didn't. No complaints on my end," Emily told him as she got up and started to gather her clothes up. "I must get going and you do have a store to run."

"I suppose," Tom replied as he watched her skirt go back down and her blouse get buttoned. "Will I see you next week?"

"We'll see," Emily reasoned. "I'm curious. What would you say if your Dad showed up one of these weeks and came back here?"

"He wouldn't, at least I don't think so. Maybe I would just say that the older lady seduced me." Tom kidded. "A better question would be at you would say?"

"I don't know. Perhaps something along the lines of offering him a choice of my other two outlets and inquiring whether or not he'd like to give them a go?" Emily said while moving to the back door to the sound of Tom's laughter.

"You just might."

"Maybe he would tell your girlfriend about me." Emily suggested.

"Oh, about that girl," Tom said as Emily turned the knob. "She's not my wife or my girlfriend. She's my sister."

"I knew that," a Mrs. Jameson responded without a trace of surprise. "Figured that was part of the game. And by the by you didn't remind me about my parcel."

"Oops."

"Cherrio love!" a chipper Emily Jameson said as she left and went back down the alley and headed home, with a reminder of Tom oozing out of her and onto the insides of her thighs as she walked.

***

Thank you for reading.