Baxter's hostess, the Lady of the house

Dear Sir Williard,

It is morning at last and I have spent the last few hours of the night tossing and turning as I worried about what my lustful inclinations have led me to. I had thought the greatest danger in accepting the invitation to join the Peach family would be my relationship with the already compromised daughter of the family, I now have to report that I have committed an even worse offense than the seduction of the innocent maiden. I am ashamed to report that I have betrayed the holy vows of matrimony, cuckolding the very gentleman whose good favor I had hoped to curry. No doubt you see the irony of the situation as clearly as I. You will recall that I had accepted the invitation from Lady Peach primarily as a way to avoid being used by Dr. Miller as a breeding stud to mount the wealthy colonial matriarchs of Rajah-4, and yet I wake on the bed whose rumpled bedding and soiled sheets serve as a physical evidence of Lady Peach's late night visit.

When I first heard the tentative knocking on my door Sir Williard, I confess I had secretly hoped that it was young Miss Peach who had found the courage to come to my chambers. It took me a second or two to discern the identity of my late-night visitor in the dim light of the hall. With her form concealed by a neck-to-slipper embroidered robe, and the cascade of blonde hair across her face Lady Peach looked very much like her daughter in spite of the twenty year difference in their ages. It was only when the Dame of the house brushed away the curtain of hair and her worldly eyes met mine with a knowing smile that I knew for sure who it was waiting in the hall.

I can only hope that my face showed none of the disappointment I initially felt when I recognized it was Lady Peach and not her daughter; judging by her actions I suspect that what she saw most on my face was surprise. She stepped past me without even a moment of hesitation closing the door firmly behind as she moved into the small office. The matriarch of this noble family didn't bother to speak, instead she turned to face me and opened the long robe to reveal that she was wearing nothing but the skimpiest lingerie of black lace.

I have never even imagined clothing like this, Lady Peach's underclothes covered only the tiniest fraction of her pale smooth skin. The brasserie was nothing more than two half cups of lace that barely contained her full breasts. Against the milky white of her full mounds, I could easily see the pink of her areolea peeking from behind the sheer material of her bra that only just covered half her wondrous bosom. She wore a garter belt and sheer black stockings that ended mid thigh and nothing else; her pubic hair was neatly trimmed and I could barely pull my eyes away from the lascivious sight, her curly thicket was thicker and a slightly darker gold than her daughter's downy bush. I suppose the comparisons are inevitable your Lordship, having seen both women naked (or nearly naked) within a 48 hour period how could I not make these observations. Lady Peach was curvier than her lithesome daughter, Sir Williard, with fuller breasts, a soft slightly rounded belly on which I could just see the stretch marks left by her pregnancies and hips that flared out in a perfect womanly figure, a figure that I could not resist.

"I hope you like what you see." She laughed confidently as she stepped closer placing her hands on the now obvious bulge in my trousers. I just nodded like a schoolboy unable to find any words appropriate to this novel situation. "Good." My hostess took my hand and led me to the bed chamber of the suite, "I want to fuck you until you pass out, you handsome young thing."

Before I even knew what was happening I was sitting on the bed with Lady Peach knelt between my legs unbuttoning the fly of my pantaloons and pulling out my member. I tried to stop the madness, but my futile attempts were waved off.

"Lady Peach" I stammered - of course I used her correct name, but I have decided that I will continue with this contrivance to protect the privacy of all concerned - "Lady Peach, what about your husband?" I asked vainly trying to resist the natural reaction of a man when his sex was being expertly stroked.

"My husband has had his fun with all eight of the children's nannies and governesses." She brushed aside my objections without a hint of remorse. "Lord Peach paid top money to arrange for those lovely college coeds to immigrate to New India from England; the prettiest and most demure young ladies our country could produce and not one of them over the age of twenty-one." Lady Peach must have seen the sudden doubt on my face. "That's right my young Doctor, I estimate that at least five of those sweet little things were popped open on this very bed, and then very thoroughly educated by my husband, his friends and even my own son during their tenure here." She paused briefly so she could swallow half of my shaft pulling away slowly leaving a slick coating of glistening saliva. "I think its only fair that I should have a little fun of my own, don't you?"

What followed, My Lord, was a most energetic series of coupling with Lady Peach. I have had, as I believe I have mentioned, some experience with older widows while on Earth but nothing like the fucking (forgive the use of the vulgar term, but nothing else suffices) we shared. Several of the positions were new to me, like when she rode me twisting and grinding on my manhood facing my feet presenting me with the view of her fine buttocks and the small brown hole winking at me with each of her gyrations. By the time she was done with me, the skin on my penis was raw and my balls ached from climax after climax; I lost track of how many times I lost myself in passionate release, and I was basking in a warm glow that was almost as intense as an opium induced haze.

As much as I had savoured the deflowering of Miss Peach, Sir Williard, I have to admit that sex with an experienced woman is a fine thing; especially a woman whose body was as fit and toned as Lady Peach's. I decided as Lady Peach lay draped across my chest after our third shared climax that if I had to chose between the two that I'd pick the mother. She might be twenty years older, although she too looked much younger than her true age, but most importantly to me twenty years more experienced in how to please a man with her mouth, sex and yes even her breasts.

"Good boy." She whispered with a kiss on my brow as she rose from the bed. "I hope you'll save some more of this for me, and not waste it all on Peach." She laughed at my shocked protests and stammered denials. "Don't be silly!" She chastised me with a gentle slap on my cheek. "Do you think a mother doesn't notice when her eldest daughter finally succumbs to The Blush?"

She left me lying alone on the rumpled sheets in stunned silence.