1. Tartan Blanket


    Date: 9/9/2016, Categories: Cheating, Author: marlowe, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    Eddie scraped a thin layer of ice from the windscreen while Mark poured Malcolm into the front seat of the car and Eileen put their luggage into the boot. After too many turns of the ignition key and a few frustrated curses from the driver, the old Rover 90 eventually fired into action. Under the veil of a darkening sky they headed back to Gateshead. “Put this over your legs,” Eileen whispered, a suggestion of excitement and anticipation dancing behind flashing eyes, wrapping herself inside the tartan blanket and spreading the rest over his muscular thighs. Because there was evidence of black ice on the country roads, Eddie didn’t talk too much, he just puffed on his cigarette and concentrated on the driving. Other than the occasional grunt from the drunk in the front seat, the inside of the car was reasonably quiet. The car chugged along with comfortable ease, weaving its way through the sweeping country roads, the headlights beaming into the night sky, the occasional swerve brought about by icy conditions or the unfamiliar terrain. “The roads are slippery,” Eddie confirmed, glancing in the rear-view mirror, muttering curses and apologies under his breath. “Take your time...There’s no hurry,” he offered, smiling at his father in the mirror, blinking his eyes, trying to focus in the darkness, just making out the silhouette of his father’s face and his left hand on the steering wheel, the dashboard lighting up the fine hairs on his disfigured arm, the reflection in the mirror ...
    throwing back an image of a proud and honest man. The man who didn’t have a driving licence. The man with a lobster tattooed on his arm. The man who thought one of the most highly acclaimed architects in history was called Christopher Robin. A sigh and a shuffle on the seat, an uncomfortable shiver and a gesture of movement, snuggling up close and resting her head against his arm, her breasts rising and falling in a slow rhythm with each intake of breath, the smell of hairspray, cigarettes and a mist of perfume teasing his nostrils. With every swerve of the car she shifted in the seat, her weighty breasts flattening against his arm and whispers of warm breath blowing intermittently against the side of his face. Her eyes were closed. He couldn’t tell whether Eileen was sleeping. But with his heartbeat increasing by the minute, sending a surge of blood into his penis, if she was sleeping, he had no intentions of wakening her. An impulsive moment of furtive intimacy, slipping his hand under the blanket, giving his stirring limb a gentle tug, his fertile imagination creating images of Eileen flaunting her body over the kitchen sink.... She must have known what she was doing. Was it deliberate ? He thought. Christ some of her bending positions with her legs apart were bordering on the erotic. The mere thought of her trousers creeping inside her bum cheeks and her huge tits bouncing inside her blouse, had left him nursing a throbbing muscle that couldn’t be ignored. A soft purring ...
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