An Evening with Catherine

They'd met twice before, each time a tease -- sparks popping, bodies humming with want, but never crossing that line. The near-misses left them hungry, their quick wit and easy flow blurring the edge between strangers and lovers.

Catherine had picked the spot, a quiet country park. Mark paced the car park, his cock stirring at the thought of her. Every rumble of tyres jolted his pulse until, ten minutes late, a silver Mercedes purred in. Her bright smile glowed from the passenger seat, chestnut hair spilling past her shoulders - but a man winced. It was her husband, Mark realised, his gut tightening as lust met a flicker of nerves.

He's checking me out, Mark thought, watching Angus - a tall, silver-haired lawyer with a stiff edge - park the car. Catherine pointed him out, and Angus's eyes scraped over him, cold and quick. She stepped out, all fluid grace, her pastel skirt swaying over long legs, pink-painted toes peeking from sandals. She was mid-forties, stunning - five-foot-seven, creamy skin stretched over a slim waist and rounded hips. Her blouse hugged her chest, heavy C-cups spilling naturally, a faint sag from their weight softening the curve, nipples denting the fabric.

She leaned into Angus's window, kissing him slow and deep, then floated over to Mark, her floral scent curling around him. "Evening, Mark," she purred, voice velvet, pressing into him for a hug. Her soft, full tits squished against his chest, warm and yielding. She kissed his cheeks, lingering, her hazel eyes dripping with want.

"You look good," she said, lips twitching.

"So do you," he rasped, still thrown by Angus staring.

"The plan's changed," she said, smooth as cream. "Angus has agreed we can get closer, but he wants to be there too. Follow him home in your car - you want that, don't you?" Her fingers wove into his, sending a pulse to his groin.

No question. "Silver Porsche Cayenne," he said pointed the model out to Catherine, nodding. He opened her door, heart thudding as her pale thighs slid in, skirt hiking to tease smooth skin. Following the Mercedes, their small talk simmered - every glance, every brush of hands stoking the ache.

Twenty minutes later, they rolled up a tree-lined drive to a sprawling Regency mansion, gates humming open at Catherine's phone tap. She led him inside, the house oozing old cash and sleek charm. In the kitchen, she handed him a beer, then popped champagne with a flirty smile. "Open it for me dear?"

The cork flew with a sharp pop, fizz spilling. Angus walked in as they poured, and the air thickened, heavy with promise. Catherine played it light, flirting with both her men, her laugh easing Mark's nerves. She fixed canapés, then guided them to a plush living room. Perched between them, she shifted from armrest to armrest, skirt riding up, flashing creamy thighs.

Drinks flowed, and Catherine loosened, her edges blurring. She leaned into Angus, whispering, then louder: "You sure?" He nodded, jaw tight. She kissed him deep, tongue sliding, hand drifting to his thigh. Mark watched her unbutton her blouse, revealing a purple lace bra cradling her lush tits - big and natural, a gentle droop from their heft, so much fuller than Lisa's tight little pair. Her nipples pressed through, dark and thick, begging for teeth.

She shed her skirt and blouse, standing in lingerie - curvy and real, her ass plump and heart-shaped. Straddling Angus, back to Mark, she sighed as his hands cupped her hips, skimming her waist. She tossed Mark a look, eyes blazing, and unhooked her bra. It fell, baring those heavy C-cups, nipples stiff and pink against pale skin. She ditched it, then unzipped Angus, his cock popping free--barely 5.5 inches, thin and straining, that half-inch a point of pride for him, the tip already wet.

Catherine bent down, lips closing around him, sucking slow and slick. Mark couldn't see it all, just her head dipping, but the wet, greedy sounds and Angus's grunts lit him up. His own cock - seven inches, thick as hell, veined and heavy - throbbed in his jeans, dwarfing Angus's little prick. She glanced at him, teasing, until Angus bucked, groaning, spilling into her mouth. She pulled back, licking her lips, then turned to Mark, topless and flushed, her tits swaying softly.

Sipping champagne, she swayed to the music, hands roaming her skin--cupping her breasts, thumbs grazing her nipples, the weight pulling them down just a touch. She slid her lace knickers off, baring her smooth, dripping pussy - unlike Lisa's dark trim, it was bald and pink, lips swollen, clit peeking out, glistening between perfect thighs.

She danced closer, grabbed his hand, and tugged him up. Leading him upstairs, she nudged him into a candlelit bedroom, air thick with roses and heat. "Wait," she breathed, slipping into the bathroom. Mark's eyes hit the walls - nude shots of her, all arched back and round ass, and a painting of her naked from behind, still a knockout. She pressed against him from behind, warm and bare, hands undoing his shirt.

"Like them?" she purred, unzipping him, stroking his bulge.

"You're unreal," he gasped, as she freed him - his cock massive, inches of hard, pulsing meat, the head broad and dark.

"I had those pictures done for Angus's fiftieth," she said, nibbling his ear, peeling his clothes off. She gripped him, stroking slow. "I'm soaked. Take me."

She sprawled on the bed, legs wide, pussy shining - pink and plump, begging. Mark dove in, kissing her neck, sucking her thick nipples, then lapping at her slit. She tasted sharp and lush, moaning as he tongued her folds, teasing her clit. Her hips rocked, grinding into him, and he felt her tighten.

Angus slipped in, camera flashing, catching her first orgasm - tits jiggling, back arching as she cried out, yanking his hair. Mark kept going, licking her through two more, her juices coating his chin. She pushed him off, panting, then pulled him up. "Fuck me," she pleaded.

He lined up, his fat tip nudging her wet hole. She nodded at Angus, who snapped the shot as Mark sank in, her tight heat swallowing his length. She clawed his back, moaning, and he thrust slow, then deep, her heavy tits bouncing with every pump. She came hard, pussy squeezing him, drenching the sheets.

"Don't stop," she gasped, legs locking him in. "Fill me."

He lost it, slamming in, cum surging hot and thick inside her. She shuddered, whimpering, as he flooded her. They collapsed, sweaty and spent, her fingers tracing his chest. "So good," she sighed. "You?"

"Fucking perfect," he grinned.

Angus climbed on, spooning her, his little dick - still hard, barely enough - sliding into her dripping pussy. Mark kissed her soft, fingers rubbing her clit as Angus fucked her steady. She moaned louder, trembling, and Angus groaned, unloading fast. They stumbled to the shower, hands roaming, water washing off the mess.

Dressed, Mark got a slow kiss from her in a silk robe. "Let's meet again, soon," she whispered. He drove off, buzzing - until his phone rang.

"Mark, it's Catherine. Lisa gave me your number. She set this up - today, our intercourse. She's been fucking us for months, wanted you to taste me too. She's home, waiting. I thought you should know." She ended the call.

His gut flipped. Lisa? His Lisa? He pulled in, entered their house quickly spotting her in the living room - five-foot-five, lean and catlike, her small, high tits cupped in purple lace, nipples poking through. Her thong barely hid her dark bush, legs toned and golden. She twirled, smirking. "Angus got us matching sets. Sexy, huh?"

"You knew?" he rasped.