I re-imagined our experiences from the lodger's point of view....
I was looking for a place to stay for a while and one of my mates put me in touch with a bloke called Phil. Him and his wife were struggling with the mortgage and they needed a lodger to help out with the money. I went round to meet them. Phil was okay, a bit boring if I'm honest. His wife wasn't much too look at really, I'd seen enough of her type in my time, typical bored housewife, I reckoned nothing much would make her smile apart from a good seeing to and she obviously wasn't getting that from her husband.
The only thing she had going for her really was that she had a decent figure, what I could see of it anyway. She wasn't exactly dressy and seemed to go in for modest skirts and sensible blouses. But now and then, whenever I saw caught a glimpse of flesh through a missing button, the tiniest curve of cleavage or the whiteness of a bra cup, I could imagine that a man might have thought that there might be something worth chasing...
To honest, I was getting more fun out of winding her up.
The best time was when I frightened the life out of her when I was coming out the bathroom. I didn't even think there was anyone in the house, so I was just walking out of there stark naked, cock dangling. It might even have been semi-hard, I can't remember. But it certainly shocked her, though she seemed to be the one who was apologising to me for what was after all just an accident.
Later she said 'sorry about earlier,' but I told her to forget it. 'Nothing you haven't seen before,' I said, trying to make light of it. But she just gave me a puzzled look and changed the subject. I got to thinking then, maybe it wasn't something she had seen before, or at least not mine anyway. Perhaps her husband's wasn't much to look at. The thought of her wanting to get know my cock a bit better was a tempting one. But was she really that type? She'd never given me any reason to think so. She seemed more interested in telling me what bastards men were and how they were only interested in one thing, saying anything to a woman to get what they wanted.
Same old same old, yawn yawn. I couldn't help thinking what she needed was a good fucking. Not that it was ever going to happen. Or so I thought...
Like I said previously, she wasn't really my type, bit too serious, bit of a nag really with all that feminism crap, but I have to admit, at the same, I was curious to know what she looked like naked. She was slim with a decent figure and – from what I could see when she wore a blouse – a decent pair of tits. I probably wouldn't want to show her off to my mates down the pub, but I'm sure I'd give her a good seeing-to if the chance arose.
Anyway, I wasn't going to lose any sleep over it, there were plenty more women out there and they were easy enough to chat up, Why waste my time over a frigid bitch like her. Except I did start losing sleep, listening to her and her husband rowing. Don't know what it was about, but it seemed to get quite heated at times. 'Oh, just give her a good fucking and shut her up,' I thought.
Anyway, it was the morning after one of these rows. I noticed she was dressed a bit differently. I could have sworn the skirt was a bit shorter than before, and she'd ditched her old lady cardigan and was in just a shirt. A sexless sort of shirt, admittedly, but it showed off the curve of her tits well. I was getting to like the look of her figure even more and again I wished I could get to see her naked. Did she have a bush or was she shaved? Probably a bush, tufty and dark brown, I guessed.
'I'm sorry if we kept you up last night,' she said. 'Just a bit of a tiff. Not nice for you to listen to it though.'
'Didn't notice anything,' I said diplomatically.
'It's just that Phil promised we were going out this weekend, spend a bit of time together. I was looking forward to it. Now he says he's off to Doncaster and Newcastle, chasing some steam train.'
I knew Phil was one of these trainspotter types, and I'd heard them rowing before about him spending more time with his trainspotting mates than he did with her.
Next thing I know, she's crying, dropping her head to the table and having a right sob. I didn't know what to do, but I got up and put an arm round her, telling her not to cry and that I was sure he'd make it up to her the next weekend.
'I'm just so fed up with being disappointed,' she said. 'I mean, I love Phil, but he can be such a let down. All this silly trainspotting for a start. And other things...'
She left the last sentence hanging in the air.
From where I was standing, I could see downwards, into her shirt, the shadow of her cleavage, the pale freckled skin and beige coloured bra. I had woken with a raging hard-on earlier and this glimpse of her tits wasn't helping.
She was still sobbing, so I sat down next to her and tried to comfort her. The face she turned to me was nothing like her usual blank expression, much more soft and vulnerable, and before I knew what was happening I was kissing her. She broke away, acting shocked, then just said something about Phil, before carrying on. She was greedy for it, greedy for a man's attention. All our earlier arguments seemed forgotten. She reached out fumbling with my belt. I had a raging hard on now, straining to get out of my pants. I stood up then and turned to face her. She quickly undid the belt, unzipped me and pulled my trousers down so she could get at my pants. She rubbed my stiff prick through my pants, murmuring her appreciation. The next minute it was as if she couldn't wait to get it out, pulling the elastic down until my prick sprang up, pointing ceilingwards. He fingers closed around it, pulling it down level
'Oh Chris, I love your prick, I knew you'd have a big one. I want it inside me.'
She leaned forward and I felt her mouth close around it, taking a good 3-4'' inside. I wouldn't have dreamed she could act so wantonly.
'Better get yourself up the fucking stairs then,' I said. 'Get your kit off.'
'Yes, yes,' she said, pulling me towards the stairs, with me following holding my pants and trousers.
Once upstairs she closed the bedroom curtains and started to undress. First the shirt, then dropping her skirt, so she was standing there in front of me in just her bra and pants. She had a great figure, I could see then that despite any earlier thoughts I might have had about her plainness, she was 100% cunt and definitely in need of a good fucking. I could see through her bra that her nipples were erect and when she reached round to unbuckle the strap and let the bra loose she had a fine pair of tits on her. 34B I guessed, just the right size in my book. Next she pulled her panties down, revealing a nice bush of hair, just as I'd imagined her to have.
She sat down suddenly on the bed 'Oh, I thought my knees were going to give way then. I'm shaking. I haven't been naked in front of a man for years, not for anyone apart from Phil, and I don't think he's that bothered to be honest.'
'He's a fool then,' I said, pushing her onto her back and playing with her hard nipples.
It's funny, you never really know what to expect until you're actually at it. I'd always imagined her being a bit dried up, that she'd need some working at. Quite the opposite. When my fingers were between her legs and I could tell she didn't need any lubricating, far from it. I pushed her over onto her back and got into position above her. She had got my cock was as stiff as a poker. I pushed her legs apart and slipped it inside. Oh yes, it was a delight, nice and moist and as tight as a virgin. I guessed she didn't get much cock.
Well she was certainly going to get a length of mine. It slipped inside her easily, all the way in, all 7.5” of it. It felt great, even more satisfying to give a good seeing to a so-called feminist. She was always going to about it but I'd always thought it was a pretence, that all she really wanted was a good shag. Her initial sighs had changed to moans now and I could feel her cunt muscles gripping onto my cock now, as if she was milking it. 'Oh Chris,' she kept saying, 'fuck me. I love your prick. I want your prick inside me.'
I was close to coming by then and one final look down at her dark nipples and her pubic bush was enough for me and I stiffened as I began to spurt the first of five loads of spunk deep into her belly. We hadn't even mentioned birth control and I wondered if she was on the pill. None of my business really. It wouldn't be the first time I'd left a woman with a bastard as a souvenir, and if desperation for cock made her run that risk, well it wasn't my problem. I wouldn't be the one with the fat belly. Maybe she even wanted my bastard, she seemed hot enough for me, desperate to have my spunk inside her and who was I to hold back? Women seem quite happy when they're pregnant, don't they? After all that's what nature intended for them, to get fucked and have bastards
I was looking for a place to stay for a while and one of my mates put me in touch with a bloke called Phil. Him and his wife were struggling with the mortgage and they needed a lodger to help out with the money. I went round to meet them. Phil was okay, a bit boring if I'm honest. His wife wasn't much too look at really, I'd seen enough of her type in my time, typical bored housewife, I reckoned nothing much would make her smile apart from a good seeing to and she obviously wasn't getting that from her husband.
The only thing she had going for her really was that she had a decent figure, what I could see of it anyway. She wasn't exactly dressy and seemed to go in for modest skirts and sensible blouses. But now and then, whenever I saw caught a glimpse of flesh through a missing button, the tiniest curve of cleavage or the whiteness of a bra cup, I could imagine that a man might have thought that there might be something worth chasing...
To honest, I was getting more fun out of winding her up.
The best time was when I frightened the life out of her when I was coming out the bathroom. I didn't even think there was anyone in the house, so I was just walking out of there stark naked, cock dangling. It might even have been semi-hard, I can't remember. But it certainly shocked her, though she seemed to be the one who was apologising to me for what was after all just an accident.
Later she said 'sorry about earlier,' but I told her to forget it. 'Nothing you haven't seen before,' I said, trying to make light of it. But she just gave me a puzzled look and changed the subject. I got to thinking then, maybe it wasn't something she had seen before, or at least not mine anyway. Perhaps her husband's wasn't much to look at. The thought of her wanting to get know my cock a bit better was a tempting one. But was she really that type? She'd never given me any reason to think so. She seemed more interested in telling me what bastards men were and how they were only interested in one thing, saying anything to a woman to get what they wanted.
Same old same old, yawn yawn. I couldn't help thinking what she needed was a good fucking. Not that it was ever going to happen. Or so I thought...
Like I said previously, she wasn't really my type, bit too serious, bit of a nag really with all that feminism crap, but I have to admit, at the same, I was curious to know what she looked like naked. She was slim with a decent figure and – from what I could see when she wore a blouse – a decent pair of tits. I probably wouldn't want to show her off to my mates down the pub, but I'm sure I'd give her a good seeing-to if the chance arose.
Anyway, I wasn't going to lose any sleep over it, there were plenty more women out there and they were easy enough to chat up, Why waste my time over a frigid bitch like her. Except I did start losing sleep, listening to her and her husband rowing. Don't know what it was about, but it seemed to get quite heated at times. 'Oh, just give her a good fucking and shut her up,' I thought.
Anyway, it was the morning after one of these rows. I noticed she was dressed a bit differently. I could have sworn the skirt was a bit shorter than before, and she'd ditched her old lady cardigan and was in just a shirt. A sexless sort of shirt, admittedly, but it showed off the curve of her tits well. I was getting to like the look of her figure even more and again I wished I could get to see her naked. Did she have a bush or was she shaved? Probably a bush, tufty and dark brown, I guessed.
'I'm sorry if we kept you up last night,' she said. 'Just a bit of a tiff. Not nice for you to listen to it though.'
'Didn't notice anything,' I said diplomatically.
'It's just that Phil promised we were going out this weekend, spend a bit of time together. I was looking forward to it. Now he says he's off to Doncaster and Newcastle, chasing some steam train.'
I knew Phil was one of these trainspotter types, and I'd heard them rowing before about him spending more time with his trainspotting mates than he did with her.
Next thing I know, she's crying, dropping her head to the table and having a right sob. I didn't know what to do, but I got up and put an arm round her, telling her not to cry and that I was sure he'd make it up to her the next weekend.
'I'm just so fed up with being disappointed,' she said. 'I mean, I love Phil, but he can be such a let down. All this silly trainspotting for a start. And other things...'
She left the last sentence hanging in the air.
From where I was standing, I could see downwards, into her shirt, the shadow of her cleavage, the pale freckled skin and beige coloured bra. I had woken with a raging hard-on earlier and this glimpse of her tits wasn't helping.
She was still sobbing, so I sat down next to her and tried to comfort her. The face she turned to me was nothing like her usual blank expression, much more soft and vulnerable, and before I knew what was happening I was kissing her. She broke away, acting shocked, then just said something about Phil, before carrying on. She was greedy for it, greedy for a man's attention. All our earlier arguments seemed forgotten. She reached out fumbling with my belt. I had a raging hard on now, straining to get out of my pants. I stood up then and turned to face her. She quickly undid the belt, unzipped me and pulled my trousers down so she could get at my pants. She rubbed my stiff prick through my pants, murmuring her appreciation. The next minute it was as if she couldn't wait to get it out, pulling the elastic down until my prick sprang up, pointing ceilingwards. He fingers closed around it, pulling it down level
'Oh Chris, I love your prick, I knew you'd have a big one. I want it inside me.'
She leaned forward and I felt her mouth close around it, taking a good 3-4'' inside. I wouldn't have dreamed she could act so wantonly.
'Better get yourself up the fucking stairs then,' I said. 'Get your kit off.'
'Yes, yes,' she said, pulling me towards the stairs, with me following holding my pants and trousers.
Once upstairs she closed the bedroom curtains and started to undress. First the shirt, then dropping her skirt, so she was standing there in front of me in just her bra and pants. She had a great figure, I could see then that despite any earlier thoughts I might have had about her plainness, she was 100% cunt and definitely in need of a good fucking. I could see through her bra that her nipples were erect and when she reached round to unbuckle the strap and let the bra loose she had a fine pair of tits on her. 34B I guessed, just the right size in my book. Next she pulled her panties down, revealing a nice bush of hair, just as I'd imagined her to have.
She sat down suddenly on the bed 'Oh, I thought my knees were going to give way then. I'm shaking. I haven't been naked in front of a man for years, not for anyone apart from Phil, and I don't think he's that bothered to be honest.'
'He's a fool then,' I said, pushing her onto her back and playing with her hard nipples.
It's funny, you never really know what to expect until you're actually at it. I'd always imagined her being a bit dried up, that she'd need some working at. Quite the opposite. When my fingers were between her legs and I could tell she didn't need any lubricating, far from it. I pushed her over onto her back and got into position above her. She had got my cock was as stiff as a poker. I pushed her legs apart and slipped it inside. Oh yes, it was a delight, nice and moist and as tight as a virgin. I guessed she didn't get much cock.
Well she was certainly going to get a length of mine. It slipped inside her easily, all the way in, all 7.5” of it. It felt great, even more satisfying to give a good seeing to a so-called feminist. She was always going to about it but I'd always thought it was a pretence, that all she really wanted was a good shag. Her initial sighs had changed to moans now and I could feel her cunt muscles gripping onto my cock now, as if she was milking it. 'Oh Chris,' she kept saying, 'fuck me. I love your prick. I want your prick inside me.'
I was close to coming by then and one final look down at her dark nipples and her pubic bush was enough for me and I stiffened as I began to spurt the first of five loads of spunk deep into her belly. We hadn't even mentioned birth control and I wondered if she was on the pill. None of my business really. It wouldn't be the first time I'd left a woman with a bastard as a souvenir, and if desperation for cock made her run that risk, well it wasn't my problem. I wouldn't be the one with the fat belly. Maybe she even wanted my bastard, she seemed hot enough for me, desperate to have my spunk inside her and who was I to hold back? Women seem quite happy when they're pregnant, don't they? After all that's what nature intended for them, to get fucked and have bastards
