Summer of 1966

[Ishta]

IC:

"Verity Dear. Come downstairs would you please". My Mother's voice clipped the air like a pair of brand new scissors.

"Yes Mother". I yelled back, my tone betraying the slightest hint of apathy. I had been home barely two hours and already the thought of spending the summer of 1966 in this mortuary (referring to my family, my home and my home town collectively) did not fill me with much excitement. Surely a season as giddy as this is better spent sneaking out of the sorority house, down to a bar by the river to drink alcohol and watch a rock and roll band. Gasp!

I rolled off my bed and moved to my mirror by the window. I paused to consider myself for a moment, my ivory white skin, curly blonde hair, and opal blue eyes.

My narcissisitc gaze was only interrupted when from the corner of my eye I noticed a young man working the garden at Mrs Cruickshank's, next door. I smiled as I watched him raise a pick above his head to show his chest glistening in the sun, and crash it down beneath him with a great thump. He paused a moment to wipe from his face his matted black hair, and admire his handy-work.

To my horror his eyes turned to my window and seemed to fix on me. I blushed and moved quickly from the window, hurtling down the stairs to almost collide with my Mother waiting at the bottom.

"Verity. You look flushed. Are you alright".

"Yes Mother. I am fine".

"Good. Then you can take this pot roast over to Mrs Cruickshank's, given your father is away and your apetite seems perpetually absent I cannot have it wasted. Particularly since Mrs Cruickshank has a workman over there currently".

"Oh yes I will!" I could hardly conceal my excitement. I snatched the pot from Mother and ran outside with the thought of the black haired boy at the top of my thoughts.

I had been to Mrs Cruickshank's before, of course. She had allowed the local children to swim in her pool, and I remember her statuesque figure leaning against the door by the pool, her long blonde hair touching the tips of her shoulders, as she watched us play.

But that memory was distant now, since I had left for college, and Mrs Cruickshank retreated into her house with the death of her husband. I wonder what she will be like now, I thought....

OOC: The story is that since the death of her husband Mrs Cruickshank has hired local young men to perform odd jobs for her around her house, and pleasure her in between. Upon seeing Verity Mrs Cruickshank decides to seduce Verity and make her dalliance with the help a threesome.

Hence a young handy-man and Mrs Cruickshank is needed. Pm or post.

Thank you.

 

[Frenchgirl]

Mrs Cruickshank

OOC
I hope this is to your liking
Mrs Cruickshank
rather tall and skinny, blonde hair
48 years
dressed in a summer dress, a garter belt, black stockings
and matching bra and panties.

IC
Mrs. Cruickshank sat in the sofa and looked through the window, enjoying the young man working in her garden and having a cup of tea.

Since she became a widow she found pleasures with young men.
They loved to do her garden.

Her rest was disturbed by a knock on the door. Mrs. Cruickshank looked up and opened the door.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Cruickshank, I had to bring this pot to you." Verity said.

"Oh, verity, sweety, that's so nice of you to bring that pot to me. Come inside. Do sit down and have a nice cup of tea with me." Mrs. Cruickshank insisted.

As Verity sat down Mrs. Cruickshank pourred out a cup of tea and had a closer look at Verity. She had become quite a woman.
She had developped nice breasts and curved hips. She always was pretty with her blonde hair and blue eyes. Meanwhile Verity couldn't stop gazing at the young man in the garden.

"Here you are, sweety, a nice cup of tea." Mrs. Cuickshank said as she handed the cup over to Verity.

"Mmmh, could it be, Verity had developped and equal interest in boys?" Mrs. Cruickshank thought. She sat down, next to Verity.

"So, Verity, you have become quite a young woman. I take it you have develepod an interest in clothing and music, as all the girls of your age do." Mrs Cruickshank said trying to make a conversation.

"oh, yes, of course." Verity said a little bit startled.
"And boys?" Mrs. Cruickshank asked.
Blonde Verity looked a little bit disturbed.
"Oh, it's ok, sweety, you can talk about boys, you know, we're both ladies, so it can do no harm. Come on, tell me, such a pretty blonde girl, you must have some boy who fancies you... and perhaps has kissed you?" Mrs. Cruickshank kept asking while she laid her bony hand on Verity's knee.

 

[leatherneck78]

Travis

Travis was a 22 year old strapping young man. He had gone to the local college to play baseball. But he partied too much and flunked out. Since then he had returned home and taken odd jobs around town. He had a sculpted body from years of playing baseball. His 6'5" frame filled out with a solid 225 lbs. And with his blue eyes and ligt brown hair, he was quite the ladies man in college, but since he moved back home, his taste had turned to whoever was willing, older woman and teenage girls alike. He noticed the young woman from next door earlier when he felt someone watching him. He turned and looked straight at her, and liked what he saw. He wondered how he was going to get into her panties as he worked on the garden.

 

[Ishta]

I rapped a hand against Mrs Cruickshank's door, the sound of a pick crashing into the dirt sounding in the distance. As I waited for an answer I ran my palm across my face, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. After a whole semester in the cool Boston winter the early summer heat was having its effect on me.

Soon the door swung silently open, and at the door stood a tall blonde lady, wearied by age and sadness. At first she seemed hostile and unfamiliar, her emerald green eyes piercing into me.

But then it seemed a weight washed from her shoulders and the smile I remember from the woman leaning against the door by the pool those years before had returned.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Cruickshank, I had to bring this pot to you." I said.

"Oh, verity, sweety, that's so nice of you to bring that pot to me. Come inside. Do sit down and have a nice cup of tea with me." Replied Mrs. Cruickshank, ushering me inside with the guidance of her hand across my shoulder.

As I stepped inside the door and heard the clanging of an old clock sound 1:00 o'clock in the afternoon, I noticed that despite the advance of time Mrs Cruickshank remained the picture of elegance I remembered. Thinner than before, but still her figure was as striking as ever.

She wore a summer dress that swooshed as her endless legs glided across the floor. Those legs wrapped tightly in black stockings reached up her dress to meet her tight ass beneath, which curved inward as they became her hips, until finally held firmly in place by her garter belt was her slight waist.

All the time my eyes absorbed her body, hers remained fixed on me. A warm smile met me when my gaze reached her face, now slightly stretched and wrinkled emphasising her cheek bones that seemed to have been carved from china.

As I sat down and placed the pot on the coffee table Mrs Cruickshank poured a cup of tea, while my eyes turned to look outside and saw the young man, naked from the waist up, working in the garden. I smiled a pleased smile now that closer I could see his rippling chest.

I almost jumped out of my erotic reverie when I felt the weight of Mrs Cruickshank sitting down on the couch right next to me, and the cold touch of her bony hand pressing against my knee.

"Oh, it's ok, sweety, you can talk about boys, you know, we're both ladies, so it can do no harm. Come on, tell me, such a pretty blonde girl, you must have some boy who fancies you... and perhaps has kissed you?" Mrs Cruickshank said, feeling slightly uncomfortable now, I let out an awful giggle and blushed with embarassment at my awkwardness.

I looked at Mrs Cruickshank's green eyes, now piercing me in a different way, her fingers now softly drawing circles on my knees. I felt so self conscious now and wished I had not worn my white mini-skirt that day, no matter how much it irritated Mother, since sitting on that couch, it had ridden up my thighs to the extent only a whisker of it remained to cover my white lace panties (another article that would disgust Mother if only she knew).

So I smiled a demure smile like I was 12 years old and timidly sipped on my tea…

 

[Frenchgirl]

Mrs Cruickshank

Mrs. Cruickshank noticed the embarassment of Verity when she asked the question about boys. Verity blushed and smiled timidly while sipping her cup of tea.

"Come on, Versity, such a proper young lady, you must have seen the boys looking at you. In my days young girls had to wear skirts covering their legs to hide them from the looks of men. These days, girls were hot pants and mini skirts. Surely when you dress up in a nice white miniskirt, boys are likely to approach you, sweety." Mrs. Cruickshank said while she moved her hand up to the inside of Verity's soft thighs.

Mrs. Cruickshank moved her hand up to touch the inside of Versity's thighs.

Verity startled when she felt Mrs. Cruickshank hand touching the soft flesh of her thighs.
"Oh, Mrs. Cruickshank, what are you doing?" she asked with a high pitched voice. Mrs. Cruickshank's hand rubbed Verity's thighs in a more explicite way.

"Remember, to hold your back straight and not to spill the tea over your blouse, Verity, a proper lady doesn't spill her tea." Mrs. Cruickshank said.

"Try to relax, Verity, and part your legs a little bit. Do you like it when someone touches you like that?" She asked Verity while her hand touched the cloth of her panties covering her crotch.
As she waited for a reply, Mrs. Cruickshank's middlefinger touched the full length of Verity's outer folds through her lace panties.
"Did you ever touch yourself in such a way, Verity? No doubt your mother would be quite upset if she knew you touched yourself there. But here with me, it's safe to touch your intimate parts, Verity. You don't have to hold back when you're with me. It's not a dirty thing when you touch yourself. You should be able to enjoy it. Are you enjoying this. " Mrs. Cruickshank asked while she fingered Verity through her sensual lace panties, feeling her fleshy folds and the warmth in her crotch.

 

[leatherneck78]

Travis was feeling kind of thristy, so he went towards the house and the closer he got the scene infront of him became more clear. He saw Mrs. Cruicshanl playing with Verity's pussy through her panties. Seeing this turned Travis on immensly, he begin to rub his growing cock through his pants, the more they progressed the harder Travis rubbed finally unzipping his pants to release his hard thick cock. "mmmm" he moaned as he began to stroke his cock out in the open watching the hot interaction etween the two women infront of him.

 

[Ishta]

"....Surely when you dress up in a nice white miniskirt, boys are likely to approach you, sweety." Said Mrs Cruickshank, her piercing green eyes undressing me so that I could almost feel a cool breeze lick my naked skin, and her cold finger sliding across my knee and down between my thighs.

I shook, stunned by Mrs Cruickshank's increasingly lusty manner, almost spilling my tea over my blue blouse.

"Remember, to hold your back straight and not to spill the tea over your blouse, Verity, a proper lady doesn't spill her tea." Mrs. Cruickshank said, her palm pressed firm against my thigh, two fingers softly rubbing it and working slowly up my dress.

Now the boy in the garden had become a distant flicker in my memory as I could feel the warmth growing beneath my panties, Mrs Cruickshank's fingers snaking towards them and then pressing softly against them. She was sitting so close to me now, her crossed legs right up against mine. I looked down and saw her dress had almost totally slid to her lap revealing her long legs and black silk stockings reaching to the top of her thighs where my eyes could almost make out her purple lace panties.

I gasped as she pressed a finger harder into my panties, my folds happily closing around it through the lace. I could feel a very hot flush rise right up inside me and my cheeks going bright red as I looked up at her expectant, desirous gaze, a loose lock of her hair hanging in front of her face and a thin knowing smile spread from ear to ear.

"Try to relax, Verity, and part your legs a little bit. Do you like it when someone touches you like that?" She cooed, and I could see now from the corner of my eye the boy in the garden standing at the glass sliding door, stroking a his hard penis protruding from his cream pants.

To my amazement I was feeling an immense sense of pleasure in the knowledge of the boy masturbating at the sight of myself and Mrs Cruickshank, and I began to pretend her fingers between my legs were my own and I was masturbating with him. I pictured her fingers massaging my mound being my own, rubbing it softly, but pressing harder and harder. Without knowing it I grabbed Mrs Cruickshank's hand and pressed her harder against me, and closed my thighs tighter around, letting out soft moans in between sips of my tea.