Me And The Cathcarts


I may have been eighteen and of stout health, but I almost had a heart attack.My father was standing in the hall, holding his hand over the telephone’s mouthpiece. “It’s Harry Cathcart,” he said. “You remember we went round and helped him out with some DIY a month or two back?”I remembered. Of more recent memory was going round to Mrs Craddock’s for some fun and games, only to discover that Mrs Cathcart was there too, and very free and easy with her favours. If Mr Cathcart had got wind of what had gone on that evening, I’d be in deep shit. “Yes,” I said nervously, expecting all hell to break loose at any moment. “I remember.”“It seems Harry needs some more help,” my father said. “Only, since I’ve put my back out…”It took a moment for my fearful mind to realise what my father was intimating. It took a few more moments for me to work out that while going over to the Cathcarts’ was a risk, I had no legitimate reason to refuse the request.Ten minutes later I was on my way to the couple’s house with an ambivalent heart, dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of frayed and faded jeans. I mean, I was going to be helping out with DIY, after all. On the one hand I hoped Mrs Cathcart was going to be there, because who wouldn’t want to see her again, just to see her? On the other hand, there was always the danger that there would be some sign that we were better acquainted than ought to be the case. I didn’t quite trust myself with my own actions and reactions.No, perhaps it would be better if Mr Cathcart was home alone, but the idea was also terrifying. What if this DIY lark was just a pretext? What if he wanted a little talk man to man? What if he’d got wind of what had happened and intended to tell me in no uncertain terms what he thought of me screwing his wife? He would have known, after all, that my dad had put his back out. He’d been like that for the past week.In the event, things were better and worse than I could have imagined. It was Mrs Cathcart who came to the door when I rang the bell. She was dressed in her denim shorts, cut high and tight enough to be more like bikini bottoms than anything. The only other thing she was wearing was a tight top that landed half way between her boobs and her navel. Well, that and her glasses. She may or may not have been wearing knickers, but she was certainly not wearing a bra. She smiled as I just stood there staring at the outline of pointy nipple. The last time I’d seen those tits I’d been spraying my hot cum on them.“Hello, Darren,” Mrs Cathcart said. “It’s good of you to want to lend a hand.”I just about stopped myself from blurting out something about how I’d love it if she gave me a hand.“Harry’s upstairs,” she went on, turning. I followed her, still without a word, but watching her ripe denim bum every step of the way, remembering her on top of me, asking me to spank her, and also remembering Mrs Craddock sticking a finger up her bum. Still, the good news was that Mrs Cathcart would hardly be dressed like this if her husband knew what she and I (and Mrs Craddock) had been up to. The bad news was that Mrs Cathcart’s arse provoked conspicuous swelling as I followed her upstairs. I was at pains to keep one hand in my pocket, to avoid the husband spying the obvious bulge.“Hello, Darren,” Mr Cathcart said. “It’s good of you to come over.”Shit. He was holding out his hand, expecting me to shake. What was I supposed to do? Still, he was staring me in the eye, not down there, so I risked it, pulling my hand from my pocket and saying, “Happy to help,” Mr Cathcart.“Call me Harry,” the man said.“Well,” Mrs Cathcart said, “I’ll leave you to get on with your man stuff. Call me if you need me.”Given that I by now could only think of sex where Mrs Cathcart was concerned, this sounded distressingly dirty, though quite why I hesitate to recall. Still, with her gone I could at least concentrate on the job at hand. The room was a mess of bits of wood and power tools. I wasn’t particularly handy, but I could follow instructions, so when Harry said, “I thought we’d start with the skirting,” I agreed readily enough.The skirting took some time to do, but we knuckled down until we’d done the job. The only interruption came when Mrs Cathcart poked her head round the door and said, “Look at the two of you being all manly!”It sounded horribly flirtatious. I didn’t dare look at her, hoping that Harry would make nothing of it, or just assume she really only meant him. After all, I harboured no illusions bahçesehir escort about my own manliness per se, but Harry was definitely the kind of man to whom the epithet might apply. I could easily see why a woman like Mrs Cathcart would find him attractive, given his size, his kind eyes and the dishevelled shock of black hair that gave him an even more rugged appearance. He was the type of man of whom one might say he was secure in his masculinity, and thus pretty much my polar opposite.When we were finally done with the skirting, Harry said, “Why don’t I go down and fetch us up a couple of Cokes?”I was hot and sweaty, and this sounded like a very good idea. With Harry off downstairs, I looked out of the window, down on next door, where a woman was busy pruning bushes while her husband trundled a wheelbarrow around. Hearing a noise behind me, I thought Harry had returned, but it was Mrs Cathcart standing in the doorway, posing in a coquettish manner.“Remember these?” she asked. Then she promptly lifted her top to expose those perky boobs of hers, topped with a generous spread of areolae and erect nipples.What was the woman doing? If her husband saw, there’d be hell on. But I didn’t want to be impolite either, so I nodded.“Why so coy?” Mrs Cathcart said, with a little pout. “Don’t you want me anymore, Darren?”My mouth was horribly dry. I wanted to say I wanted her, but I couldn’t. Not here, not now, not with her husband in the house. “It’s too dangerous,” I managed to croak. “Mr Cathcart… Harry…”“I want you,” Mrs Cathcart said. Then she giggled in that little way she did. “And I’m not wearing any knickers, Darren.” My head began to swim, but before I could say anything, we both heard Harry’s feet on the stairs. “Just say the word,” Mrs Cathcart breathed, pulling her top back down over her boobs and leaving.If I’d been hot and sweaty before, I was feverish and saturated now. Still, Harry clearly hadn’t noticed anything, so I calmed down a little, gulping down the drink so fast I got hiccups.We got back to work, Mrs Cathcart putting in a new appearance after a while without saying anything. Her husband was up a step ladder with his back turned, and that was all that was needed for Mrs Cathcart to take the opportunity to flash her boobs at me again.I was staring open mouthed as Harry said, “Pass me the screwdriver, would you?” Mrs Cathcart winked at me. Fortunately her husband’s back was still turned, and once I’d handed Harry the requested item, the woman had disappeared.Having by now been involved with three married women, including Mrs Cathcart, I was fast becoming disabused of any notion that grown-ups took marital fidelity seriously. Nevertheless, for a woman to openly flaunt herself at the risk of her husband noticing, that was totally out there.I went on aiding Harry to the best of my ability, my head overflowing with incomprehension. Not least I was wondering what Mrs Cathcart saw in me when she was married to what was obviously a very handsome man, who seemed thoroughly decent in every respect. Why would she want to risk her marriage? I had no idea. I just know that suddenly Harry said, “Damn! I forget to bring the aardvark filler up from the shed.”OK, I know there’s no such thing as aardvark filler, but I forget what it was he’d forgotten, and since this was alien territory to me, it may easily have been something with a similarly outlandish name.Anyway, the long and the short of it is that Harry disappeared to fetch the item in question. I was standing in the room surveying our handiwork when I heard a voice. The first time I thought I was hearing things, but the second time I realised it was Mrs Cathcart calling my name.I stepped out onto the landing, about to ask where she was, when I heard my name a third time. Mrs Cathcart’s voice was coming from a room with an open door. A couple of steps, and I stopped dead in the doorway. It was the Cathcarts’ bedroom, and Mrs Cathcart was lying stark naked on the bed, legs spread, toying with her pussy. She smiled at me and giggled. “Do you want to give me your screwdriver, Darren?” she asked.“Sally!” I gasped. “Mrs Cathcart… Mr Cathcart… Harry…” (OK, Harry and Sally. I know, and they got to hear all the jokes a year or so down the line, when the film came out. By then I’d experienced enough of Mrs Cathcart’s real orgasms to be unimpressed by Meg Ryan’s fake one.)“My cunt needs attention,” Mrs Cathcart said. “I remember your big cock, beylikdüzü bayan escort Darren… How good it felt…”I didn’t know what to say. I knew what I wanted to say, but all I could think of was that Harry might return at any moment. “Erm, thank you, Mrs Cathcart,” I said. “But Harry…”Mrs Cathcart just giggled. “Do you want to poke me, Darren? Say you do. Please say you do.”This was much too risky. I didn’t want to play this game, but I didn’t want to disappoint Mrs Cathcart either. “Of course I want to poke you, Mrs Cathcart.”There was a new giggle as the woman moved her fingers between her folds. “So I see,” she said, staring straight at my crotch. My anxiety had somehow blocked my own awareness of the swelling that the sight of Mrs Cathcart had produced, and which was very visible to her. “At least show me your cock, Darren. Show me your big hard cock, please!”I wanted to, of course I did, but now was not the time, surely. “Harry… Mr Cathcart could be here at any moment.”“Show me your cock, Darren! I need to see it!” When I didn’t react, she added, “We’ll hear when Harry comes in.”This sounded reasonable enough. Enough at any rate for my fears to diminish somewhat. Hardly believing I was doing it, I unzipped and brought out my throbbing cock.“Ooh!” Mrs Cathcart exclaimed. “Mmmm!” In an instant she’d rolled off the bed and come up to me, going down on her knees and grabbing my cock. “Mmmm!” she purred again. Then her tongue was dragged along my pole.“Mrs Cathcart!” I gasped. I had to get her to understand that this was way too dangerous. If Harry caught us like this, the news would travel back to my parents by Concorde and I’d never be let out of the house on my own again, regardless of how old I was.“I never did tell you how much I love a good facial, did I?” Mrs Cathcart said.“I want to give you one,” I breathed. “I want to so much. But it’s too…”Mrs Cathcart popped her lips over my bulb and slurped hungrily. Her tongue did a swirl round my glans before she brought her mouth up and looked up at me with that glorious twinkle in her eye. “What do you want more than anything, right now, Darren? Tell me!”Say something, anything, I told myself. “I want to cum on your face, Mrs Cathcart.”“Mmmm! I’d like that too, Darren! Your hot spunk all over my face!” The woman was a lot like Mrs Hotter, it seemed to me, in the way she said such vulgar things in a completely uninhibited fashion. But as I stood there thinking that it was possible right now, Mrs Cathcart moved away, ending up back on her knees, bending over the bed, wiggling her arse. She looked back over her shoulder and winked at me. “But first I want you to screw me rotten!”What the hell was I supposed to do? I was aching to shove my cock into her, but all the time I could only think of Harry, of the trouble I’d be in if…“Don’t you want me?” Mrs Cathcart pouted, with a new wiggle of her arse. “Please don’t disappoint me, Darren.”“Of course I want you, Mrs Cathcart!” I blurted. “I want you more than anything. I want to screw you rotten, like you said, and cum on your face. It’s just…”“Quick then!” Mrs Cathcart breathed. “Before Harry gets back.”I didn’t know how to turn her down any more. I moved across the room, holding my stiff cock in my hand, Mrs Cathcart staring back at me, eyes gleaming. I laid a hand on a buttock and she breathed, “You can spank me if you like, Darren!”And then the sound came, the downstairs door slamming shut. My stomach turned itself inside out as I stuffed my cock back in my trousers and dashed back to the DIY room. Desperately, I tried to bring myself to some state of normality so that Harry wouldn’t notice there was something up. The trouble was, I couldn’t keep Mrs Cathcart out of my head, and had to keep my hands in pockets to conceal my still full erection.However odd and nervous my behaviour, Harry didn’t seem to notice. It was with a certain amount of relief that I aided the man as he got back down to business. He even allowed me to hammer in a few nails. Fortunately Mrs Cathcart didn’t put it any more appearances, or I may well have crushed a thumb or a finger or two.After a further hour of work, Harry said, “Well, I think we can call it a day. Why don’t we go downstairs and wind down with a beer each?”I still wasn’t a big fan of alcoholic beverages, but at that moment any cold drink would have done. I followed Harry down to the kitchen, and we sat there drinking straight out of the bottle, escort beylikdüzü not saying much, just chilling – as people didn’t say back then.And then, while we were sitting there, I heard Mrs Cathcart from the doorway. “So which of you two fine handymen wants to drill me first?”I almost leapt out of my skin. I had my back to the door, so I couldn’t see Mrs Cathcart, but I still almost blurted out something along the lines of, ‘But Harry! He’ll catch us!’ In the nick of time I remembered that Harry was actually sitting there at the table. At the time I completely failed to register that he was smiling. Nor could I bring myself to look at Mrs Cathcart. I did, however, hear her heels on the kitchen floor as she came across to the table.Then she was standing there, leaning over the table, smiling at her husband and myself in turn. She was wearing high heels with hold-ups and a cupless corset, all in matching red. I tried hard not to stare at the fuzz of ginger hair on her mound, or her breasts hanging out, or the wicked grin on her face, the glint of sexual desire behind her glasses.“Young Darren’s done well today,” Harry was saying. “Why don’t you give him a treat before we get down to the drilling?”“With pleasure,” Mrs Cathcart giggled.This was beyond my comprehension. I didn’t know where to look as Mrs Cathcart lowered her body, disappearing under the table. It was impossible to grasp that Harry was alright with this, even though it was patently obvious, and so I couldn’t bring myself to look at him either, at least not until he said, “I know Sally’s been teasing you, Darren. We agreed on it before hand.”“You did?” I said weakly. Mrs Cathcart was under the table, unzipping me. Instinctively I shifted position, aiding her, even though I still couldn’t get my head round it.“I know all about your adventures on Monday,” Harry said, winking at me. “Sally told me everything in graphic detail.”“She did?” I said as Mrs Cathcart brought my cock out into the open and rubbed her thumb over the glans.Harry smiled at me, swigging from the bottle while Mrs Cathcart’s hand gave a little tug and her soft tongue slithered over the tip of my cock. “Sally and I have a special arrangement,” he said, “in that we’re not exclusive.”“How do you mean?” I said. I suppose I sort of understood, but I was still very perplexed. Did no adults have an ordinary, monogamous sex life?“That we can have sex with other people,” Harry said, “as long as we’re open about it.” As he spoke, I felt Mrs Cathcart’s lips close on my throbbing organ and I let out a groan. “Isn’t Sally the best?” Harry said.“Yes,” I said with a strained voice, though secretly I was thinking that Mrs Hotter was still the best in my book, at least up to now.“It’s not for everyone,” Harry said. “An arrangement like ours, but it works for us.”“Are you… sort of… swingers?” I said, using a word I’d picked up from one of my dirty magazines.“Not exactly,” Harry said. “We just don’t believe in exclusivity.” There was a pause, during which I tried to work this out, but with Mrs Cathcart shoving her lips way down on my cock and drooling all over me, this was very difficult. “Sally especially needs a great deal of action.”Under the table Sally slurped greedily, as if to confirm what her husband was saying. There was sweet, saliva-coated bliss round my shaft. Then Mrs Cathcart’s lips came off me. “You make it sound like I’m a sex maniac,” she said. She giggled. “Maybe it’s not too far from the truth.” Then her lips went back down on me, her tongue slithering as she began slurping again.“Isn’t she an expert fellatrix?” Harry asked.I just about understood what this meant. “Yes,” I agreed breathlessly. “Fucking fantastic!”Harry smiled at this. “The thing is, Darren,” he said. “That you’re welcome to enjoy yourself with Sally any time you like, whether I’m here or not. She’s taken quite a shine to you.”I’m sure I looked completely daft with my mouth hanging open, but at the same time Sally was doing her damndest to fit my entire near eight inches in her mouth. I let out a groan of pleasure. It was slowly dawning on me that this was the answer to my prayers. An incredibly hot and uninhibited woman with whom I could enjoy carnal pleasure with her husband’s blessing, secure in the knowledge that we wouldn’t be disturbed by any offspring. I knew very well that the Cathcarts’ only daughter was married and living in Australia.Thinking it best to be polite, I said, “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”Mrs Cathcart giggled on my cock, sliding her lips slowly up and off. “Oh he’s not offering me to you out of kindness,” she said. “Harry loves it when I get off with other men, don’t you, Hunk?”Harry drained his bottle before saying, “Well, I can’t deny it.”I didn’t know what to say to this.

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