Margaret and Irene

I paused with my finger hovering over "send" then I tapped it and the phone bleeped and it was done. There were now butterflies in my stomach as I took my penis in hand again and started tossing myself off again, wild thoughts in my head. I'd sent the message to both of them and I half-expected to get a reply straightaway. But it was four o'clock in the morning and my phone stayed silent as my orgasm crashed over me and I spurted my sticky goo over my stomach and chest.

Afterwards I fell into a heavy sleep and was awakened at seven-thirty by my phone announcing a text message. I was instantly awake and reached over to the bedside table with a vague sense of unease. The message was from Margaret.

Dear Toby, we are both thrilled that you would like to join us! Would you be available on Sunday afternoon at 3pm? I do hope so! My address is 14 Maple Avenue. Love Margaret xxxx

Ps we're nervous too!

I texted that that would be fine and then I lay in bed with my mind whirling, wondering if I'd just made a huge mistake. Sunday was tomorrow and my stomach was churning with a combination of anticipation and dread.

I found Maple Avenue without any trouble; it wasn't actually that far from my parents' house, in an affluent middle-class part of town. Number fourteen was a detached Edwardian villa set back from the road behind a high yew hedge. I walked up the short drive, mounted the steps and rang the bell. About ten seconds later I heard the sound of high heels clacking on the hall tiles and the door opened.

'Toby! Come in.' Margaret stepped to one side to let me past and I caught a whiff of expensive scent. She was dressed in a pearly-white satin blouse and a black pencil skirt. Her legs, which I'd always thought were a bit thin, were elegantly clad in black stockings. She was carefully made up, her lips a glossy red and with heavy mascara and eyeshadow, her fingernails a dark red. Her grey hair was lustrous and freshly washed and my first thought was that she looked nice. Sexy even.

'Come into the front room, Irene's here already.' She steered me through a doorway on the right of the stairs and into a large and well-appointed room. There were paintings on the wall and chintzy sofas and a big, oak coffee table. Irene was sitting in one of the armchairs and she got up as I came in.

'Oh Toby! I'm so glad you've come.' She came over and hugged me tightly and I felt her bosom press against my chest. I Hugged her back, smelling her scent and feeling the silk of her blouse under my hands, her thick, black hair against my cheek and her hands on my back.

'I think we probably all need a drink,' said Margaret and Irene released me and we stood looking at each other for a few seconds. 'Gin and tonics all round?' She disappeared towards the back of the house where I assumed the kitchen was and Irene and I sat on a three-seater settee and smiled uncertainly at each other.

'I hope they're doubles,' she said. 'I'm as nervous as anything.' Her blouse was carmine red and matched her nail varnish. Like Margaret she was wearing a black pencil skirt and stockings and her hair was loose and flowing over her shoulders. Like Margaret she had applied glossy red lipstick and heavy eye make-up. Her skin looked soft and moist and I was suddenly aware that Irene, despite her age, which she'd once let slip was sixty-five, was a very attractive and desirable lady. I felt my cock stir in my trousers and suddenly I knew that it was going to be alright. Better than alright.

Margaret came back in with a tray with three tumblers and we took one each and clinked our glasses together. 'To all of us,' said Irene, taking a sip. 'Bloody hell, Margaret. Is there any tonic in this?'

'Not much,' grinned Margaret. 'But I think we all need a stiff one.' There was an awkward silence after this remark and then we were all laughing, a bit too loudly. We sat down again and all three of us took a couple of big swallows of our drink. It was as Irene had said, almost neat gin.

Irene coughed. 'Ok folks, this is all a bit embarrassing and I think we need to break the ice a bit. Toby, come over here and I'll show you what it's like to kiss an older lady. I shifted along the settee until I was next to Irene and, putting my arm around her, drew her gently to me. She leaned over and tilted her face to me, eyes closed, and I kissed her lips and tasted her lipstick and felt her mouth open under mine and the tip of her tongue dart against my lips and I responded by opening my mouth wider and pressing my lips to hers. I felt her arms go around me, her nails pressing into the back of my shirt and I smelled her scent again. She was soft and curvy in my arms, her mouth smooth and yielding, her saliva mingling with mine. This wasn't how I'd imagined it would be, kissing one of the old ladies. This was amazing! She was amazing, and my penis was rigid and uncomfortable in its cocoon of underpants and trousers.

We kissed for about a minute then Irene gently disengaged. 'Would you like to kiss Margaret now?' I nodded dumbly and Margaret came over and took her friend's place on the settee. Kissing Margaret was different. Her body was thinner, less rounded. Her breasts were small and felt hard as she pressed herself against me and pushed her lips against my mouth, her tongue seeking mine, more urgent than Irene, more needy. But it felt good. Better than good. Her obvious desire was flattering and stimulating and I felt myself respond to her urgency with passion and enthusiasm, aware of Irene watching us and sipping her drink.

It was the right thing to do, the kissing. That, and the industrial strength G&Ts, relaxed us all considerably and we talked and laughed while we finished our drinks and then Margaret stood up and said: 'Shall we go upstairs?'

She led the way, me behind her, staring at her backside as she mounted the stairs. Irene was behind me, staring at my backside for all I knew. Margaret was narrow hipped and thin legged but, as I watched her modest arse swaying from side to side as she ascended, the desire I had felt when kissing the two ladies came back to me in a rush. I was going upstairs to Margaret's bedroom, with her and Irene and we were going to make love, all three of us. Any reservations I may have had concerning their age and physical state were rapidly disappearing in a cloud of arousal. I was becoming very excited.

Margaret's bedroom was the big one at the front of the house. It held a couple of gigantic oak wardrobes, a chest of drawers, and a dressing table in the bay window. The bed was a king-size with a crisp white- cotton duvet cover and matching pillowcases. There was also a two-seater settee and a couple of chairs. Margaret's first action on entering the bedroom was to draw the curtains. This reduced the already meagre late November afternoon light to a sombre gloom. 'This light's a bit kinder to Irene and me,' she explained. 'We're not trying to cover anything up but we just feel a bit more comfortable with the curtains closed.'

Irene closed the bedroom door and the three of us stood at the end of the bed. I had a sort of male feeling that I should make the first move, but I was unsure of myself in this situation; all my sexual experiences had been one on one. It was Irene who spoke: 'This is probably a bit awkward, Toby, for all of us.' She paused. 'Margaret and I had a chat about it before you arrived and we've got a little plan, so if you're happy to put yourself in our hands?'

'Yes,' I agreed, 'of course. Whatever works for you both.'

'Good,' said Irene. 'Well, step one is that Margaret and I are going to undress you.' As she said this she stepped up to me, smiling, her long fingers with their red nails deftly undoing my shirt buttons. At the same time Margaret undid my trouser belt and zip and I felt my jeans slither down to my ankles where she started undoing my laces and removing my shoes and socks. I had to steady myself with my hands on Irene's shoulders as Margaret tugged my trousers free of my legs. Then my shirt was off my shoulders and joining the rest of my clothes on the floor leaving me in just a pair of Y-fronts, the front tented out by my rigid cock. 'Would you like to do the honours, Margaret? But no touching, mind.'

Margaret knelt in front of me and, taking the waistband of my Y-fronts between her fingers and thumbs, gently eased them over my erection and down my legs to the floor. My cock sprang free and waved about in front of her face and I was desperate for her to touch it with her hand or mouth or both, but instead she just smiled up at me and stood up. 'Irene and I would like to put on a little show for you now, Toby, while you watch. It'll get both of us warmed up and give you a chance to adjust to what we look like under our clothes.' She pulled one of the occasional chairs, a little upholstered thing with wooden carver arms, over to the end of the bed. 'Why don't you sit here and watch. I hope you'll like it,' she said quietly. I sat obediently in the chair and put my hands on the arms.

'There's just one thing,' said Irene. 'No touching. That means you can't touch us and you can't touch yourself while you watch us either.'

'I think that'll be very difficult for a virile young man,' said Margaret, in a low voice. 'He's very aroused now. What will happen when we start to take our clothes off? When we start to touch each other.'

'Well perhaps we should restrain him then,' said Irene, softly. 'How would you feel about that, Toby, if we tied your arms to the chair so that you couldn't touch yourself? Would you like us to do that?' She was close to me now and almost whispering in my ear; I could feel her breath on my neck and I shuddered with desire, my stomach churning with anticipation. It was becoming clear to me that my new friends were not perhaps entirely the innocent old ladies that I had assumed and the possibilities seemed to blossom in front of my eyes into a myriad of erotic fantasies.

'Yes,' I stammered, 'that would be ok.'

Margaret opened the top drawer of the chest of drawers and rummaged around, finally extracting two nylon stockings, one tan and the other black. She handed the black one to Irene and they knelt either side of my chair. I watched fascinated as they wrapped the stockings around my forearms and the arms of the chair and tied them off in a neat bow. The restraints weren't tight, I could have pulled my arms free, but that wasn't the point. I felt the fine denier mesh against my bare skin and my penis throbbed with lust. In front of me, between the chair and the bed, Margaret and Irene were standing facing each other. As I watched they came together in an embrace, tilting their heads slightly, their glossy red lips meeting in the practised motion of two experienced lovers. They kissed with their eyes closed, working their lips against each other, their hands running over each other's blouses and necks and hair, the kiss becoming more intense, little gasps of passion escaping from their mouths. I was entranced. The only time I'd seen two women kissing was a pair of undergraduates in the Students' Union bar and it hadn't looked anywhere near as good as this!

After a couple of minutes they broke off for air and Margaret began to undo Irene's red silk blouse, slowly and seductively, pausing after each button to kiss her lover's cheeks or neck or lips. She finished with the cuff buttons and tugged the blouse out of Irene's waistband. Irene shrugged her shoulders and the blouse slipped to the floor with a rustle of silk. The light wasn't great but I could see her breasts, full and round in her red lacy bra, and her bare stomach and arms. I suppose I'd been expecting a vision of sagging skin and stretch marks but there was little evidence of that. Ok, her stomach bulged slightly over her waistband and there was a bit of wrinkling on her upper arms but it didn't detract from the fact that she had a great body. But right now she wasn't looking at me for approval.

She was undoing the buttons on Margaret's pearl-coloured satin blouse and taking her time as Margaret had done. I had the impression that this was something they did together a lot. Margaret's upper body, when revealed, was thin and taut, her breasts small inside her black bra, her stomach flat and smooth, her waist narrow, the bones of her pelvic girdle faintly visible under her pale skin. She knelt before Irene and undid the waistband of her pencil skirt and slid the side zipper down, working the tight-fitting skirt over the flare of Irene's hips and down her legs, revealing red silk panties over a red garter belt and suspenders. Irene stepped out of her skirt and Margaret, still kneeling, leaned forward and planted a kiss on the crotch of Irene's panties. Irene put her hands behind Margaret's head and briefly pressed her face to her crotch, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, her mouth half open with desire. 'Oh God,' she said.

Margaret's skirt was next, coming down easily over her narrow hips and revealing black panties and a garter belt. Clearly the ladies were fans of stockings and suspenders. Margaret's buttocks were small and firm looking, with no evidence of sagging. Her friend's, by contrast, were fleshy and there were wrinkles where her bum cheeks merged into her thighs. Irene repeated the crotch-kissing thing except that she rubbed her face all over Margaret's pantie-clad crotch, inhaling deeply, and Margaret gasped and thrust her hips forward. Then Irene stood and they kissed again and I admired their stocking-clad legs: Irene's were long and elegant; Margaret's calves and thighs were thin but her legs were shapely, the ankles slim and the calf muscles well defined and helped by the fact that she was still wearing her high-heeled shoes; they both were. As they kissed they reached around each other's back and unclipped their bras so that when they stepped apart again both items were shrugged down their arms and onto the floor, exposing their bosoms to my lusting gaze.

And well might I lust. Irene had glorious breasts: full and rounded and about the size of grapefruits, the areolae large and chocolate brown, the nipples big and erect. Margaret's breasts were tiny, but what there was seemed to be firm and there was a delicious pertness about them, the modest nipples pointing upwards at forty-five degrees.

Margaret glanced at the bed, a signal for Irene to crawl languidly onto it and turn over onto her back. Margaret joined her, lying on top of her lover, her thin legs straddling her and kissing her with passion and intensity. I had an excellent view from the foot of the bed of the two sets of stockinged legs. I could also see Margaret's tight little bottom in its black knickers and the muscles in her upper thighs flex as she rubbed gently up and down against Irene's crotch in a sort of simulated fucking.

As I watched, fascinated, my cock straining against my foreskin, the glans purple and swollen, Margaret raised herself on her arms and began to trace her mouth down Irene's chin and neck to her chest, and on to her breasts. Craning my head to the side for a better view, I saw Margaret suck one of her lover's big nipples into her mouth. Irene's head was back, her eyes closed, little snorts of pleasure escaping from her half-open mouth. Then she gasped and clutched at the duvet cover with her red-tipped fingers as Margaret took the nipple between her teeth and gently bit down, pulling her head away and stretching the flesh of Irene's breast. She repeated this with the other breast before moving further down, kissing and licking the skin of Irene's abdomen, tonguing her navel, moving down over her panties. As she did this, Irene raised her hips and Margaret deftly stripped her knickers off and threw them onto the bedroom floor.

From my position I couldn't see what had been revealed, but I could see Irene bend her knees and part her legs and I could see Margaret bend down between her legs and then all was still for a few minutes as Margaret feasted on her friend's cunt. In the silence of the bedroom I could hear Irene's gasps and grunts and underlying this was a faint slurping noise. Margaret's head was moving around slightly, like a cat lapping a saucer of cream. Her grey hair was flicking about as she changed the angle of her licking or thrust her face into her lover's snatch, pushing her tongue in as far as she could, her hands either side of Irene's generous hips. Then the right hand disappeared and I could see Margaret's arm moving backwards and forwards and I assumed she was fingering Irene, an impression that was reinforced by the increased urgency and volume of Irene's gasps and the flexing of her leg muscles as she bucked her hips into Margaret's face. I fancied I could also hear a squishing noise as Margaret's fingers pushed in and out of Irene's sopping cunt hole.

Soon afterwards Irene seemed to be approaching a climax and Margaret, sensing this, slowed her arm movements. There was a pause and then I saw Margaret push her fingers in again and this time Irene cried out: 'Oh God, yes! Oh you dirty bitch!' Then she was shaking her head from side to side and gripping the duvet cover as an orgasm swept through her sixty-five-year-old body and left her limp and weak and moaning quietly.

Margaret knelt up, climbed off the bed and pulled her knickers down over her suspenders and stockings. Turning to me she leaned over and pressed the crotch of her knickers into my mouth and nose and I inhaled deeply, smelling musk and a light odour of sweat, my eyes fixed on her cunt, which was clean-shaven, the labia loose and puffy, slightly parted and showing a glint of moist pinkness inside. I almost stopped breathing; a shaven pussy was new to me but I could immediately see the attraction. Margaret might have been in her late sixties and skinny, but she was as sexy as hell in the bedroom. Why hadn't I realised this before, when I was serving their breakfasts? Weren't the clothes they wore hint enough?

'Your turn soon, Toby,' smiled Margaret, climbing back onto the bed and straddling Irene's face. Irene gripped her lover's buttocks, her carmine nails digging into the little mounds. Craning my head again I could just make out Irene's head moving up and down as she licked Margaret's hairless cunt. Margaret leaned back, to better expose herself to her friend's tongue, supporting herself with her hands on Irene's thighs. Before me, Irene's legs were still wide apart and now I could see what Margaret had been feasting on and, joy of joys, there it was, a thick, black bush of pubic hair, just as I had imagined, or rather hoped. Again there was quiet in the bedroom apart from the faint noises of licking and some muted moans from Margaret. 'On the clitoris, darling. On the clitoris,' she said at one point and then, a couple of minutes later she gave a great 'Ohhh' and threw her head back and I could just see Irene's black hair flying about in disarray as she furiously tongued Margaret's clit.

After the sensations had subsided, Margaret climbed stiffly off her bed-mate's face and sat on the edge of the bed, facing me. 'That's what Irene and I do together,' she said, 'or one of the things. I hope you liked watching us.'

'Did it make a difference, me watching?' I asked as Margaret leaned forward and undid the stockings that were holding me in the chair.

'I think the difference is that today, this was just the warm-up.' She unwound the stockings and threw them on the floor. 'Now I want you to get onto the bed and lie on your back. Irene and I are going to take very good care of you.'

I stood up, feeling faintly ridiculous with my cock waving in the air. Irene rolled to one side and I crawled onto the bed and lay on my back, as Margaret had instructed, next to Irene, who smiled at me and stroked my cheek. Then she rolled towards me and kissed me and I felt her full lips on mine and I tasted her saliva and I tasted Margaret's juices on her lips and tongue and I put my arms around her and pulled her to me and kissed her passionately, overwhelmed by feelings of warmth and tenderness for these two old ladies. Further down I felt one of Margaret's small, bird-like hands fold around my shaft and start to stroke it, using her thumb to smear the clear fluid leaking from the tip around my glans so that my foreskin rode smoothly back and forth on a film of my own lubrication. The sensation was exquisite; her grip was light but firm and although I couldn't see, I could her imagine her thin fingers, with their dark-red nails, holding me and slowly masturbating me. Then it got better. Her hand moved lower down my shaft and I felt something warm and soft enveloping my cock head, felt the tip of a tongue probing at my opening and lips sliding over my glans. I broke off the kiss as my body went rigid with excitement and now I could see Margaret's head over my crotch, her grey hair obscuring the vision of her taking me in her mouth and sucking me slowly and gently.