Margaret and Irene

'Oh God, Yes! That's so good! Thank you, Thank you!'

I couldn't last much longer but after a few minutes more of my pounding in and out of Margaret's anus Irene switched her attentions to her friend's clitoris. Margaret screamed and gripped the duvet with whitened knuckles as a massive orgasm swept through her thin frame, causing her anal sphincter to spasm against my cock. Then my climax hit me and I thrust mechanically as the waves of utter pleasure and abandonment crashed through my cortex and I pumped my hot spunk into her rectum.

We slowed and stopped as our orgasms subsided. I withdrew slowly and gently from Margaret and she climbed stiffly off Irene's face and collapsed next to her friend in an exhausted heap. Irene put her arm around her friend and drew her to her bosom, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. I left the ladies to it for a couple of minutes while I went to the bathroom and washed my deflating penis. When I got back they hadn't moved and I climbed onto the bed and tried to hug both of them and we got a bit tangled up with arms and legs but eventually we ended up with me in the middle with one arm around Irene and the other around Margaret and there we stayed for long minutes, our bodies cooling.

Eventually Margaret roused herself. 'I need to sort the casserole out,' she said, getting up and putting her dressing gown on. You two stay there. I'll call up when dinner's ready.' She disappeared through the doorway and Irene kicked off her high heels.

'I'm getting cold,' she said, 'let's get under the duvet.' We snuggled together and kissed for a bit, tenderly rather than passionately.

'Well Margaret seemed to like that,' I ventured, fishing for compliments, or reassurance.

Irene smiled. 'Yes I think it's safe to say she enjoyed it. While you were in the bathroom she told me it was the most exciting experience of her life.'

'Did she?'

'Yes. She might have been exaggerating but I think it was everything she hoped it would be. How about you?'

'Oh God yes, it was fabulous.'

'Even with an old-age pensioner?'

Especially with an old-age pensioner, I was tempted to say, but didn't. 'You didn't mind using the Vaseline on her?'

Irene smiled. 'I can be a dirty bitch too.' She paused. 'Shame I can't be forty years younger.'

'You're wrong,' I said.

'Wrong?'

'That I would have preferred Margaret to you if you'd both been forty years younger. You're the one I'd have fallen for.' I don't know why I said this but as I did I realised it was true and I wondered if I was going to make the impossibly silly mistake of falling in love with a lady almost twenty years older than my mum.

'Thank you, Toby. That's a kind thing to say.' She nestled her head into my chest and I felt her shake as she sobbed quietly. Then, the sadness over, we lay together in silence until we heard Margaret calling us down to dinner.

Epilogue

I flew out from London, Heathrow the following Friday, heading west, to the Americas. Five and a half months later, and virtually broke, I flew into Manchester from the east, having circumnavigated the globe, and my parents collected me from the airport, my adventure over.

There was a bit of a party laid on for me the following afternoon but I was struggling with jet lag and as soon as it was politely possible I excused myself and went to lie down. I slept for a couple of hours before being woken by my phone, bleeping out the news that I'd got a new message. From Irene.

I'd sent the two ladies postcards from most of the places I'd visited and we'd exchanged occasional texts: staid messages with no reference to that memorable afternoon and evening. They'd sent me a photo of them at the garden centre, taken presumably by a member of staff. It showed them sitting at the table under the orange tree where we'd first met. I got that message in Vietnam and had a twinge of homesickness, the only time in the whole trip. I read the message:

Dear Toby, I hope you landed safely at Manchester. I imagine you are back at home now. If so, and if you feel like it, both Margaret and I would be delighted to see you whenever it is convenient. We are so looking forward to hearing all about your adventures!

Irene xxx

Ps -- Margaret's bought a new jar of Vaseline.

I gulped and read the message again. Then I replied. After that I had a shower and dressed and went downstairs.

'I'm going out for a few hours, Mum,' I called into the kitchen. 'Don't bother with dinner for me.'

'I thought you were tired?'

'A couple of hours sleep has set me right,' I reassured her.

Fifteen minutes later I was ringing the doorbell of 14 Maple Avenue. Thirty seconds after that I was embracing Irene and Margaret and sipping champagne and clinking glasses with them. Right, I said, placing my flute on the mantelpiece and putting an arm around each of their waists, shall we go to bed?'

The End