Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (80) It Started with a Kiss (Part 03)
Carole opened the attachment and she went weak at the knees as she looked at the selfie image of Claire wearing a seethrough nightie and everything that she had regularly enjoyed was on full display and the fire in her loins returned.
Carole studied the image as she decided how to word her reply.
Ten minutes after opening the attachment she typed her reply
“I want to see more”
She was hoping that her message would prompt further attachments of salacious pictures of Claire but instead she just received another text which read.
“Come to the house at 7 and you will”
Carole looked gorgeous when she left the house and for just a moment Stewart wondered if she was dressed up for the benefit of someone else, but he dismissed the thought almost as soon as it entered his mind.
After all Carole had a very low sex drive and didn’t really like sex that much.
And of course he was right, Carol was not seeing another man, there was no point, she had a man, a good man, a kind and loving man who she loved very much and making love with him was very good, she certainly couldn’t do any better elsewhere.
Carole had discovered while at University, at the hand of Claire Jarvis that she liked her bread buttered on the other side and so it was with lustful thoughts that Carole drove from Childean to Purplemere.
It was a beautiful summer evening and the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle was everywhere, drifting on the evening breeze, filling Carole’s nostrils and catching in her dry throat, which was dry from nerves.
There were drinks on the patio table so she picked one up and the ice in the glass chinked out a melody.
Through the open French window, the sun streamed into the room, spreading across Claire’s semi recumbent form, bathing her pale porcelain skin in its yellow glow and Carole was as hot as the sun.
She looked on with delight at Claire’s perfect sensual beauty and as she marvelled at the sight her loins filled afresh with lust and an unquenchable desire forged of steel and fire as her hungry eyes consumed her glorious treasures and she felt no shame at the beholding of her, the roundness of her breasts and the curves of her hips.
Carole stepped in through the French doors and slipped of her little black dress.
Claire looked up at her with beguiling eyes and Carole knelt beside the couch that her goddess was draped upon and then she covered her smooth silken skin with kisses, kisses that Claire had not felt for three long years.
And from that night on she led a double life, dutiful wife to husband Stewart except for two nights a week when she was Claire’s lesbian lover.