Jill grows to like Steve - a lot.

What just happened...we can't..."

He nodded. "I know Mrs W - it won't happen again. But I'm glad it did." He leaned towards me, as if to kiss me. I rushed inside, my face on fire. I didn't sleep much that night, and when I did I saw Steve's face in my dreams.

The next week or so was difficult for me. Every time George looked at me I wondered if he could see it in my face, smell Steve on me, sense that his wife of more than 20 years had acted like a whore with a man young enough to be her son. I didn't see Sharon or Steve that week, and I didn't expect to. I secretly hoped he'd 'phone, but dreaded that he would. I found myself wondering more than once whether it had really meant anything to him, or whether he'd just seen an opportunity to have it away with his girlfriend's mother, and grabbed it.

On Saturday - just over a week after my knee-trembler in the alley - I was putting a load into the washing machine when the front doorbell rang. I opened the door - to stare straight into Steve's face. God, he looked lovely. I felt my pussy twitch at the sight of him. I stood with my mouth open, as he said, "Hi Jill, is George in?"

I managed to stammer "No, he isn't." Steve knew very well that George usually travelled to support our local football team, and that day they were playing 200 miles away. I added, "And neither's Sharon."

Locking his beautiful eyes on mine, Steve murmured, "Good. I didn't come here to see Sharon."

I stood gazing at him for several seconds. Then, my stomach in knots, I said quietly, "Well, since you're here I suppose you'd better come in." He slipped past me into the hallway, and I found myself glancing to left and right, hoping the neighbours hadn't seen him. The moment I closed the door Steve was on me, one arm round my waist, the other round my shoulders, his lips on mine. I dragged my mouth away from his and managed to gasp, "Steve, no, we can't, please."

He rested his forehead against mine. There was a note of desperation in his voice as he replied, "Jill, please, I can't stand it, I've thought about nothing but you ever since that night. I want you so much."

I sighed, and pressed my hands to his chest. I wanted him too. My own voice trembling, I said, "Okay. Just this once. Then it'll be out of our systems, and we can go back to our normal lives. Agreed?" We kissed tenderly, then I took his hand and led him upstairs to my bedroom - mine and George's. We stood facing each other for a moment, then began unbuttoning each other's shirts. Steve's chest and belly were well toned and matted in soft black hair. As my shirt slipped off my shoulders he reached around me, expertly unclipped my bra, and eased it down my arms and off.

He gazed at my chest for a moment. My tummy did a triple somersault as he whispered, "God, your breasts are beautiful." He placed a hand beneath one and lifted it to his lips. As he kissed my big brown nipple, rolling his lips around it, I felt as though my legs would give way. He gently lowered my boob again and knelt before me, undoing the belt of my slacks. As he eased them down my legs he pressed his lips to my belly, just below my navel. My legs really did fail then, and I dropped on my bum back onto the bed. Steve's eyes never left mine as he slipped of his remaining clothes. Then he sat beside me and eased me back onto the bed as we kissed.

Steve slipped his lips onto my throat, then down again. He caressed one breast with his lips and tongue, the other with his long fingers. I felt sick with passion; I could never remember having been so aroused. With his spare hand he tugged at my panties, and I lifted my backside to allow him to slip them down, then I kicked them off. We pressed our bodies against each other briefly, naked together for the first time.

At that moment I felt not the slightest trace of guilt or shame.

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