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I slipped the soapy cloth down under the water to her crotch. The texture of the terrycloth was a mild stimulation for her tender flesh. We kissed. I loosed the cloth and used my hand to stroke and pinch gently at her folds. Just that morning on the couch I had used the same hand to bring her to orgasm. But I had other ideas in mind now. She rose from the water and I helped her dry off. She stayed naked as I worked on dinner. She wrapped her arms around me from behind while I stirred. When her hands found their way down to my dick, I turned the burners off and moved the pots off the heat."To hell with dinner!" she breathed into my ear. We took our drinks and went up to the bedroom. It was still early, and we could always eat later. I watched her generous ass precede me up the steps and my dick bobbed crazily in front of me.In the bedroom we lay down and began to kiss. Our hands slid easily over each other's body and our excitement began to mount. I dropped my mouth to her breast to. “No, I’m sure it will get worse again. Shall we?” We had arranged shifts now to go and call about Gramps and for me to call my mum. Dad too, of course, but he was (in the tradition of the times) more remote. Mum could tell there was something keeping me here, she couldn’t quite get it. She asked if there were any holiday girls working in the caravan sites. Not very subtle, but on the right track. I didn’t tell her I was sharing with four sexy girls, three of whom were currently in the garden at the cottage wearing next to nothing, and the other one was standing outside still (she told me) leaking from our sex session. Gramps was recovering and was apparently delighted with his book, he kept telling their granny interesting facts about Wolseley; which is like a woman explaining why knit one, purl one is such a fine knitting stitch. Granny was asked about the insurance for the car and said the certificate was in the back room, in the writing desk. We should check, she said.We had agreed.
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