It’s All a Matter of Balance
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Inspired by a recent visit to the leisure centre and viewing a voyeur video
“I bet she could,” chuckled Gary.
“Never mate,” scoffed Bert. “Never in a month of Sundays.”
“I nearly saw it back in Nigeria,” drawled Herby. “Bloody lovely though isn’t she? And a beautiful and expensive one piece swim suit too.”
“Whhaaattt?” asked an impatient George returning from the bar with the last two of four pints of Abbotts Ale, trying to see where their lewd gazes were focussed.
“Yes what…?” asked a coal black girl, with a toddler buggy, sat on the next table. “That’s my mum you’re discussing and staring at, so come on… what?”
Three of the men gulped and tried to look away from the piercing glare she was eyeballing them with. The fourth man looked mystified.
“Er…it’s nothing really,” answered Gary, who had started the conversation with his mates relaxing in the adults only bar of the leisure centre.
“Whaat?” came George again, transfixed by the dusky cleavage he was being treated to as their inquisitive neighbour leaned over towards the four. Over the top of her T shirt he could see a stark white edge of a frilly brassiere in vivid contrast to the blue brown hues of the girl’s ethnic skin. Her Crimson shirt was near to bursting with the bulk of the teenage girl’s tits.
“Excuse me love, I think it’s just a bit too rude for a young lady like you,” murmured Herby in his ex-civil servant cultured tones.
“What you mean? I am 19 and don’t call me love…it’s Lucie if you don’t mind.” she reposted.
There was a sullen silence as the four middle aged men didn’t want to waste their ale and leave, and equally didn’t want to remain in agitated focus especially after a good energetic workout and shower in the gym. The view had changed through the floor to ceiling glass that separated the lounge from the swimming pool, where a ladies exercise class was just finishing. The person of their lascivious interest had disappeared.
“So what did you nearly see in Nigeria?!” Asked Bert, thinking Lucie had lost interest, dealing with an awkward child in a buggy. He too enjoyed even greater cleavage and titillation when she bent forward to handle the infant, squashing her right tit on her tight trousered knee, into a magnificent black shiny balloon, more or less tucking it under her chin.
“Oh just a local woman, in a market. Loads of them around, some pretty some not so, but nearly all a bubble butt, endemic amongst them…”
“What’s an endemic …endemic bubble but?” puzzled George a little too loudly.
“It means a common condition…you know,” answered Herbie, not seeing Lucie’s new interest and her seeing his graphic gesture.
She feigned fussing with the buggy, tilting her Afro styled head to the next table, also keeping an eye out for her statuesque mother to enter the lounge having taken part in an exercise toning session in the twenty five metre pool. With one hand fiddling with the infant, the other rocking the buggy side, the deep dark crevasse between her milk full knockers increased in width and length. George drooled, Gary nodded and grinned, Bert licked his lips. All were hoping maybe she would take one out and suckle the toddler of which the only thing they could see was a pair of wildly waving little black arms.
“So whaaaart?” George persisted.
“The lads I worked with were taking bets on whether this particular woman, who wasn’t exactly an oil painting if you understand, could balance one of our lagers on her arse without spilling it.”
Bert scoffed and shook his head, seeing the previous person of interest through the glass, now in a stately walk through the foyer and making her way to the lounge. He was on the point of referring Lucie and the child to the staff as this was supposed to be adults only, but reserved judgement in the hope that more views of the black mother and the spectacular figure approaching would happen.
Lucie had heard and seen but suddenly also reserved judgement on making a scene for two reasons. She was actually ashamed of Ruthie her mother’s choice of dress today in her first visit to the provincial leisure centre and having heard what the four white men were discussing, knew that she couldn’t argue, knowing quite well that Ruthie could actually balance a glass – a small glass, a full glass of liquid on the plateau along the top of her abundant and firm derrière.
“Mum!” shrieked Lucie. The child turned up her gurgling to screams of delight and Ruthie beamed down at them both from a great height, four inch diameter gold earrings clanging against an elaborate necklace, cackling, “Shit! am I knackered,” wiping her high browed forehead.
The four men swivelled and gasped as the previous figure of their attention graced herself sitting a few feet away. She was wearing a flowing white overcoat with a grand dad style collar which swooped unattached to her feet, exposing a pair of white mini shorts cut so high at the back revealing two or three inches of big brown firm buttocks. Above the shorts, was bare dark brown rippling …once rippling, now a little slacker casino siteleri six pack, under a cut off top, again in dazzling white with a diamanté image attached across firm bra-less, big teated breasts.
“Hi guys,” Ruthie beamed and waved at her four gob smacked oglers. Several other men in the lounge stared open mouthed.
Gary, Bert, Herbie and George either gulped, smiled, smirked or stared more fixedly, two of them doing all four.
“Do you want another coffee or something?” Asked Ruthie. “I’m starving, so could do with a snack, get you something?”
“I’ll have a Latte please…no sugar, I’ve got a bottle for Rupey,” replied Lucie.
Her mother stood and shrugged off her coat, draping it carefully over the back of a vacant beige plastic chair alongside her own. Bert nudged Herbie as they had the best view as the tall statuesque woman bent and stooped, inches of her inner crotch and nearly her cunt could be seen past the overhang of her butt.
“Tiny panties,” whispered Herbie, the best of the four to be able to speak softly and still being heard.
“Yeah definite VPL,” sniggered Bert, as Ruthie stalked to the counter; all male eyes in the room and two pair of female glued to her every movement.
Nothing much was said. Lucie chuckled inwardly if-only-they-knew- watching lips licking, seating being shuffled, trousers being rustled. Rupey was comforted with the knowledge Grandma was bringing him a drink. Ruthie turned, tray in hand and returned to her table. Audible gasps permeated the men’s table area as her long brown shapely over lapping legs walked as on a fashion cat walk, white painted toe nails being perfectly placed in a straight line, elegant gold, peep toed, four inch high heeled stiletto clicking lightly as she neared.
George was nearest and had prime view, but the focus of all and several others was on a distinct camel-toe at the front of her crotch. In the light it was obvious Ruthie wore the skimpiest of briefs; white but clear to see behind the white material of her shorts.
Lucie knew that Ruthie’s CT would be the pièce de résistance, shuddered and vowed to tell her mum not to dress as in the West End when down in deepest Sussex. It had been Lucie’s weekly mother and baby work out at the centre, receiving a text from Ruthie saying she was on the way, they’d meet at the centre which Ruthie had joined on her visit a year back and would be staying with Lucie and Mebin her husband for two nights.
Ruthie gracefully stooped, her long legs bending together to one side as she placed the tray down. Her butt was about two feet in front of Gary and he ventured a audible sniff, getting a look of reproachment from Herbie. The way her buttocks curved into her legs was very attractive to him. She took her seat, crossing those long limbs, smiling at her close admirers and sweeping the lounge for other oglers; there were several.
“You stopped breast feeding then I guess?” she asked Lucie.
“Yes three months back, he seems OK with it,” the young mum smiled down at her guzzling infant. “Used to do it everywhere. In here sometimes, better this way,” she added quietly, neatening her crimson T shirt which strained over her bust.
A scene of lactation overcame four mature male brains, all thinking -and-we-missed-it.
A uniformed staff chap arrived standing behind Lucie and spoke.
“Excuse me madam, but this is an adult only area you know and …” He was looking straight at little Rupey happily guzzling a drink.
“Hey! Look buddy,” interjected Herbie in his cultured and best superior Government trained tones.
“It’s not a problem. I don’t know who has complained,” he glanced round the high airy chlorine smelling area. “But leave her be, the child is one of the happiest and most well behaved I have seen, I am sure the young lady and this lovely lady knows the score and will move if he…?” he got a nod from the astonished Lucie. “If he creates a problem, OK?”
The spotty youth gulped, overawed by the firm deliberate mouthing he’d received and left. Two fat old maids on the table behind Lucie glared at Herbie.
“Well said mate,” snickered a relieved Gary.
“Good on you Herb,” tittered Bert, putting his T shirt over his crotch under the table, where he’d been sneakily rubbing his knob end which was showing latent signs of growing.
“Blimey get you, cool,” grinned George, reaching over and patting Herbie’s shoulder and sneaking a view of Ruthie’s jiggling tits as she put her hands together and clapped her fine manicured hands.
“Yes thank you sir,” gushed Ruthie. “How kind, yeah darling?”
“Yes thanks mate,” nodded Lucie, noticing her mum’s shudder as she dropped into vernacular. “Sorry about …er…you know earlier.”
Ruthie glanced at her daughter and frowned, licking her lips in concentration.
“What…what happened earlier darling?” the older woman enquired.
“Nothing mum…it’s OK,”
“Did you upset these nice men?”
“No no…at least I don’t think so…did I?” Lucie’s expression swooping round them as come-on-chaps-help-me-out.
“They canlı casino are gorgeous ear rings madam,” purred Herbie, in full diplomatic mode, quickly changing the subject. “A rich gold.” Lucie smiled a thankyou.
“Why thanks. Present years back from a… Twenty four carat too,” Ruthie replied proudly, fingering the enormous hoops.
“Didn’t wear them in the pool did you?” smirked Bert, trying for a nearer and better view for leering, leaning across Herbie who had just finished fumbling in his wallet,.
“No I didn’t…how did you know…?” asked Ruthie, glancing around. “Oh of course, could you see me, of course.”
“Oh yeah missus we saw you alright, in fact we were talki…Ow!” Gary stopped abruptly, leaning down and rubbing the painful kick on his shins.
The two black women looked at each other, one questioning, the other innocent, distracting herself taking Rupey’s empty drink. She finished her Latte and gathered her stuff, grabbing a blue denim jacket from the handle of the buggy, then standing.
“Oh we’re off are we? Well OK…er right,” muttered Ruthie, feeling awkward with Lucie’s sudden intention. She stood and reached for her coat, but Herbie had beaten her to it, grabbed it, hung it in his hands, offering it. Ruthie smiled graciously, turned and it was soon shrouding her statuesque body. During the passing of hands and shoulders, he slipped a visiting card into her hands, without a reaction from her.
The thrilling, exciting and scintillating scene that unfolded, kept the friends quiet, awestruck and four cocks being tensed under their jogging bottoms. Herbie’s had a start having had a view from above down Ruthie’s cleavage when draping her white coat over her shoulders and the slightest nudge against her butt in his coat manoeuvre.
“It’s not far to walk Mum…in those,” Lucie chuckled at Ruthie’s tiny sandals. “Watch out on the pavement, not the most even.”
“Don’t worry about me darling. I’ve trod the boards in many a show in these but they’re marked down for day wear now. Must show you the new ones…so cool. What was that in there with those old blokes?” asked Ruthie, pushing Rupey’s buggy. Child and grandmother smiled happily at each other with Lucie walking alongside. “They were nice weren’t they and that nice one who helped with my coat, he was ever so well spoken.”
“Don’t know them…it was nothing Mum,” said Lucie, hoping that was it. “Oh I just want to stop in here, need some veg for dinner.” she added, halting at a green grocers.
“You’re lucky to have these local shops it’s all supermarkets now in town, unless it’s out in the East End or the like,” said Ruthie. “I’ll wait out here with him,” she told her daughter, seeking her purse from a bag on the buggy.
The Congo born and bred woman rocked the buggy gently, Rupey had fallen asleep on the way. She thought of taking her coat off. It wasn’t one to overheat her in the mild weather, but there wasn’t really a handy place to hang it. She viewed Herbie’s card and smiled at his whispered suggestion she should call him.
“There’s a nice pair,” said Sadiq Mohamed, the corner shop owner. “Two yeah?” cupping two large potatoes fit for baking in their jackets. Lucie nodded and choosing a handful of spinach and one of runner beans, silently thanking Mebin, her Moroccan husband for not being around for three days away working on the overhead transmission power lines in the West Country. He hated winter greens and wouldn’t have an influence on Rupey’s taste buds. She would miss his anal activity because she was menstruating.
“You can say that again Dad,” muttered Mohamed Mohamed from behind a mountainous pallet stacked with new stock of fruit, soft drinks, crisps, sweets and chewing gum. The swarthy long haired youth was eyeing Lucie’s voluptuous body, while rubbing his denim clad groin against a polythene pack of figs which resembled what he imagined a girls cunt would look like, at least similar to his four sisters he had peeped on. Her tight black exercise pants showed the exact line of her panties and the cheap quality she had bought betrayed the fact she had chosen to wear a lighter colour underwear.
Back home Ruthie unpacked her small travel bag, running a critical eye round the spare bedroom one wall of which divided her room from the master bed room. She was pleased Mebin was away, not looking forward to another sleepless night, listening to the rhythmic banging on the plasterboard wall, at least twice a night. Her shorts were discarded for a pair of white skin tight pants. Like her daughter she went barefoot on the house. The most important thing she unpacked was her Jessica Rabbit vibrator, chosen for it’s transparent colour preferring it to the many coloured versions as it was easy to imagine any colour cock penetrating and stimulating her clitoris.
She joined her daughter in the kitchen preparing dinner and swept Rupey up and played with him, reading stories, watching some CBBC . He frolicked on the couch as she sauntered into the kitchen.
Lucie glanced with a smile and then a frown.
“I’m glad Mebin’s not here. You’ve kaçak casino got a hell of a camel toe there Mum,” she giggled. “It shows more in those than it did in your shorts. Those old blokes were goggling at it. Perhaps you should tone down your gear next time.”
Ruthie peered down at her crotch, smoothing the palm of her hand over the mound of her pudenda..
“I can’t see it, but I’ve got a big cunt darling, the damn cotton has to go somewhere,” she tittered.
“Muuuuummm! Please …” Lucie glanced through at Rupey.
“As if he knows what cunt means darling?” Ruthie cackled. “Those chaps did heh heh! Come on what was the incident back there?”
Lucie cleaned the two big potatoes ready for baking, thought, then spoke.
“They were talking about you when you were finishing your class, they were watching girls – women wherever and one was betting that…er…”
“Come on spit it out – don’t be shy, I’m your mother remember?” chuckled Ruthie, gently slapping Lucie’s big black bum in the jeans she’d changed into.
“Betting that you could balance a glass of lager on your bum…that’s all.”
“Is that all?…what a fuss. I can! You know that, it’s part of my act for Gods sake. Shit! I could have put them out of their misery and shown them.” Lucie just thanked…whoever! “Oh well. I’m good at what I do and you could have joined me – what an act…instead you chose boring accountancy. What an act Ruth and Luce, made a pile…”
“Mum I do very well in my job, they’re hinting at a partnership, thank you…coming Rupey.”
“Your daughter has a nice house Ruthie,” murmured Herbie, strolling through to the conservatory, ogling his hostess’s very active butt in the same shorts she’d worn when first he clapped eyes on her; she wore a similar clean top.
“Why thank you kind sir. She’s got a good job and that’s saying something these days, being able to pay the astronomic sums the child minders charge. Her hubby does well too, working on the electricity pylons, lots of danger money.”
She brought in two mugs of tea and joined Herbie’s side gazing down the garden.
“So I got your text yesterday thank you,” he smoothed. “Bit surprised to be honest, but here I am and we are.”
“Surprised? You made the first mood. I half thought you would bring your buddies for an ogle,” she giggled.
“Could have but you know…”
“I know what you were talking about, about me at the pool,” she tittered. “And I can!”
Herbie spluttered his tea and patted his stained crisp cream button down shirt. The retired diplomat was a careful dresser, in fact a fastidious dresser, carrying on true colonial fashion even though his wife Deidre had died. The barber shop he had used all his mature life looked forward to him once a month, the church choir relied on his deep voice, his conservative club valued his presence as the now number three in the snooker team and numerous organisations looked to him to hold events and functions. His immaculately ironed shirt would probably have to be dry cleaned.
“Oh dear I am sorry Herbie” Ruthie joined him patting the shirt, having got some kitchen roll. “All my fault, shouldn’t have said…it’s not on you shorts…OK?” she told him stooping to inspect his tailored, sharply creased, knee length, light khaki dress short.
“Fine thank you Ruthie. Don’t worry about me, but you did shock me when you said you know and you can.”
“Want to see?”
“Er…of course…but where’s Lucie?”
“Out for the day. Mebin, her hubby’s company is holding an event, sort of family picnic thing and when it’s over he’s coming back here…but that will be late evening. I’ve delayed my trip back to the smoke, knowing you were coming.
It won’t be long before I’m cumming in my pants, with all this close contact and views- he mused.
“I think it will be OK in here,” Ruthie suggested, glancing round the glass walled room. “We’re not overlooked.”
“Up to you Ruthie,” the upright British old colonial replied. She had told him she was a pro and did an act for private clubs and gatherings, recently a very highly paid event at the Presidents club in the Dorchester hotel, London which had hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons. He puzzled why she wouldn’t want to be seen in the privacy of a large leafy back garden in Redhill, but that was her business.
“Yes, sit down and enjoy. I’m not going to do the whole act, but just relevant to what you guys chatted about. Won’t be a minute.” she went into the house proper, returning fifteen minutes later, holding a full plastic tumbler of water and a tea towel; music playing from inside. The other thing Herbie noticed was a towel fastened round her waist. She wore the same sandals as per the leisure centre.
“Do you mind if I take a video?” he asked her, brandishing a device. “For the lads heh heh.”
She acknowledged with a smile swaying provocatively. Ruthie cast the towel aside and squirmed and shimmied to the rhythm easing a tiny pair of white briefs down and off her magnificent bum. She fumbled then stumbled apologetically when the tiny sliver of material caught in the sandals. His hand shook for a moment until he propped the camera against a pot plant on a table. She stood bare naked on her lower torso, square facing him, one leg in front of the other in a classic glamour pose.
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