“Surely you’ve had dreams about it Gordon? I thought every man had fantasized about having sex with a mother and her daughter?” Gordon Lister didn’t reply. It was the first time he’d met his girlfriend’s mother, and even though he’d been warned that she was likely to say something which would take him by surprise, he’d not been ready for a proposal like that.
He looked round at his girlfriend of three weeks to see if her expression was one of disgust or amusement, but his quizzical frown was returned with an ambiguous shrug of her shoulders. Gordon Lister turned back towards the middle-aged woman sat grinning at him and tried to stammer an apologetic way out of his embarrassment: “I, I, I, I’m sorry…. I don’t know how to answer that!”
“Just say yes, Gordon. Just admit that you’ve always wanted to have sex with a woman and her mother. And then we can take it from there.”
Gordon Lister was puzzled: “Take what from where?” he asked, beginning to regain his composure, but still not comprehending how an invitation to meet his girlfriend’s mother had moved from a polite conversation to another sort of invitation.
He felt Emma grip his fingers with her right hand as she gently turned his face towards her with the other one. “Don’t you want to have sex with me Gordon?” she asked in a very matter-of-fact tone. He began to sweat and wondered if he was being tested for something, and why, but almost as a reflex stuttered again: “O, O, O, Of course, b, b, but..”
Emma Wilson put her index finger to his lips and told him to shush. She then explained that while she found him very attractive, and ever since they’d met had thought of little else but how much fun sex with him would be, how having now that she’d passed out of her teens it was now ‘time’, and how she’d made a promise to her mother that on no account would she do anything with any man until her mother had done it first.
Gordon didn’t understand, but when he asked why received a tearful account of how since his girlfriend’s father had died three years ago, her mother had got so desperate to have sex that they’d made the agreement in return for neither of them having to hear the other’s provocative and upsetting bedroom noises until after they’d found a man who didn’t mind making both of them happy.
Gordon smiled, and as the conversation continued he gradually became convinced that it wasn’t a test; that Mrs Wilson genuinely wanted to have sex with him, and more importantly, not only did Emma not mind if he did, she actually wanted him to.
“Er, ok, I suppose,” he said looking first at his girlfriend, over to Mrs Wilson and back again, “your mother is very attractive for someone in her…” Emma Wilson shushed him again before he could finish. “We need to agree a few ground rules first.”
Gordon nodded as Mrs Wilson stood up and smiled, “and we’ll put it in writing before we do anything so we that all know what it is we’re agreeing to. It’s better that way. Then there are no …um…. misunderstandings. I’ve heard that arrangements like the one we’re about to make can end unhappily if one of the people involved has certain .. ..um…. expectations and then what happens isn’t….well, we’ll put it in writing so that we all know what the ground rules are as Emma called them.”
Jo Wilson left the room as Gordon Lister smiled at Emma and tried not to look as if he wasn’t thinking about how attractive her mother was, or wondering whether the toned muscular figure which had just walked past him was the result of diet and exercise or genetics as both women had bodies as firm as an Olympic gymnast. he found them both attractive, but his girlfriend was two weeks past her twentieth birthday, just under six feet tall with shoulder length auburn hair and he was prepared to do absolutely anything for the chance to get intimate with a woman like that, and all she was asking was for him to have sex with someone who looked like she probably would in thirty years’ time.
Jo Wilson came back into the room with a pencil and a note-pad usually used to write shopping lists. She was a little shorter than her daughter, with flecks of grey in her once-red hair, and a figure almost as taut and firm as the vision of womanhood sat smiling serenely beside him.
She started to write… I Gordon Lister agree to be stripped naked and tied to all four corners of a bed and used for the sexual gratification of the Wilson women signed below on the condition that nobody but the mother and/or daughter enter the room, touch me, see me, or even know about our agreement or what they/we do either before or afterwards.
He read it, took the pencil and smiled, “Can we put it in ink? Not that I think anybody will change anything, but if we’re making it sort of formal then…”
Jo Wilson grinned. “Of course we can. Emma will type it up and print it out. This was meant to be just a note for us to work on, but if there’s nothing you’re unhappy with?”
Gordon shook his head, “Not really, but why tie me up? And I’d like something about timings and things. Not that I’d rather ….er … not that I’d prefer to…. well more so it’s fair to all and nobody has any expectations that don’t get …”
Jo Wilson waved her hand in the air to silence him as she passed the notepad to Emma, “type that up and print it out with the time and today’s date will you? But add something about how in the first instance both mother and daughter will engage in whatever sexual activities they like with young Gordon, and that after he’s suitably rested can choose which of the undersigned he does what with and for how long.”
She poured herself a large glass of red wine, sipped delicately from it, and paused for what seemed to Gordon like an age, but was probably only three minutes before she turned round. “The tying’s necessary for two reasons. Well three really. Firstly, because it will help to make it, well you, last as long as possible, if you get my meaning? Secondly, I like being in control, dominant even. Just thinking about it is getting me all, well I’m sure you understand what I’m saying? Thirdly, it’s been such a long time since ….”
She didn’t finish as Emma brought the agreement back and handed it and a pen to Gordon Lister who quickly read it through, nodded his agreement to the added words, and signed at the bottom.
Jo Wilson did the same before taking his hand and leading him upstairs to what he assumed was her bedroom where she watched approvingly as he undressed. He folded his clothes over a wicker chair and as he turned was pushed gently backwards onto freshly-laundered white bed sheets. Mrs Wilson then took four brightly-colored silk scarves from an old wooden dresser near the window and without speaking, tied him spread-eagled to the four corners of what Gordon thought was an antique four-poster bed.