Clara insisted it was a one time thing. She spent her evening with Harry in their room, where he undoubtedly proffered himself before her with chocolates and oil massages, while I had dinner with Maddie and Madison on the back porch—shrimp gumbo with bread and white wine.
But if, as the others busied themselves throughout the following days, I ever gave her a knowing look before wandering down the old horse trail, she’d always meet me in the stable. We found an abandoned service road and we’d take the motorcycle to explore the far, hidden perimeters of the estate. She always drove—I had no idea how—while I held onto her waist. I unzipped her pants as we rode. I’d reach between her legs and let the engine rattle my fingers against her panties. Until we found a secluded field where we could lean the bike against a tree and undress each other in the tall grass. “Last time,” she said, presenting her bottom, the most captivating of a thousand wildflowers.
Stumbling upon an old barn one day, Clara spanked me as I climbed through the stoop-less doorway. I helped her up, then threw her over my shoulder as she swatted my back. When I set her down, she sat on a rickety staircase leading to the loft. She smiled at me and said I could only watch as she began to touch herself beneath her dress. When it was my turn, she stood with her thigh against my thigh, squeezing my bicep, until I came across the floor. “Truly the last time,” she said, twirling her finger across my wet tip.
Soon our desires became too urgent to bother leaving the house. In the lab one morning, as she sat for my tests, I kept an eye on Harry. When I was sure he was preoccupied with his microscope three desks away, I moved a hand beneath Clara’s dress. I planned to slip a small note—“garage now”—into the band of her panties, but finding none, I had to wait for a second opportunity to tuck the note inside her cleavage.
It took longer to sneak away than I’d thought and I was worried Clara had grown impatient. Indeed, I didn’t see anyone when I glanced around the professor’s garage, a space the size of a small hangar lined with antique cars. But after a moment I heard a whistle from the far wall. I walked toward it, my boots echoing against the concrete. A cherry red speedster, a half-built hot rod, a late-century coupe—I was certain the whistle had come from that direction, but I saw no one.
Then I heard it again. Louder, closer. A two-tone sedan from the 1950s. I approached the driver side door, and peering through the window I saw Clara, topless, her dress pushed down around her waist, lying back across the bench seat, sliding one finger back and forth between her bare, forbidden lips.
She smiled and glanced up toward the opposite window. I walked slowly around the hood, her body hidden from sight for a few inexorable moments, then opened the passenger side door to the scent of her perfume.
She let her head hang back over the side of the seat and took my cock in her mouth. I braced myself against the roof of the car, surprised by the sudden warmth. Then, desperate to take part, I ducked into the cabin. I ran my hands down the underside of her breasts, across the rise and fall of her abdomen. With both of her hands occupied with my body, she held her knees tightly together, a reminder of where I was not allowed to go.
“Fingers don’t count,” I said, squeezing my hand between her thighs near her knees.
Clara moaned. She shook her head and squeezed my ass as a warning.
I began to slide my hand lower. She swatted it away.
I gave up. I respected her wishes. I ran my hands along the outside of her thighs as she pulled me back and forth into her mouth. But then she moaned, began to rub her thighs together, and in a spark of agreement she grabbed my hand and plunged it between her legs, two of my fingers awash in her rosy spring.
Bolder still, Clara came to me one night after dinner, when I should have been with Maddie and she with Harry, and said she needed to show me something on her husband’s boat.
“Show me something?”
“Yes,” she said, hands behind her back.
“Show me what?”
“A compass.”
“I see,” I said. “I love compasses.”
We met in the boathouse. I backed her against the raised hull as we kissed, ran my hands along her black panty hose. She gently pushed me away, then turned and began to climb.
As she held herself on the edge of the boat, her bottom pressed against my face, I caught the faint aroma of her scent, the moist nylon, and I became so besotted that I grabbed her waist before she could haul herself any further aboard.
She looked back at me.
“Is it really all for Harry?” I asked. I kissed the back of her left thigh, just below her bum.
She tried to pull herself into the boat, but I held her firmly.
I kissed closer to her right leg. “Just a taste,” I said, then I pressed my tongue against her damp panty hose.
She still tried to squirm away, but at the same time I felt her press back against my mouth.
“That’s your taste,” Clara said.
I found a slight tear in the hosiery. I slipped my finger through, widening the tear slightly. I slipped a second finger through, widening the tear slightly more. I took the hosiery in both hands and ripped them open. Her bottom, the underside of her wet lips. I dove forward and kissed hungrily, pressing my tongue inside her sopping pussy. I licked. I licked, breathing Clara in as I tasted her, and this is when I became convinced that, despite his claims, the professor surely must have made some genetic tweaks to his wife, for she tasted not only like the delicate delight of a woman, but also of sweet Grecian honey with the slightest hint of cardamom.
We never made it into the boat. I laid her back in a hammock and she held my head between her legs until she came. Then I licked her until she came again.
She took my cock in both hands. She looked me in the eyes. Her arms shook faster. She smiled as my mouth parted. She didn’t look away until I shot across her stomach. My cum ran between her legs, against her sapid lips.
Clara left the boathouse first, crossing the darkened lawn with her tattered tights shoved inside the pocket of her dress. I waited in case anyone was watching. When I at last started toward the house, I noticed that the laboratory light was on, odd at such an hour.