Purely a whim inspired by the usual source of viewing videos...of a certain subject.


“Darling, come on hurry up, you've got no panties on,” shouted Derrick, grabbing a bag and a small box, before rushing out of the lounge leaving one of his two daughters leisurely finishing her breakfast.

“Don't care!” sulked Nicola Winette, enjoying the extra glass of orange juice he'd put there for her.

“Grandma isn't going to be pleased if she's late,” added Emma, Nicola's mum wrapping a fresh nappy on their three month old baby.

“Don't care!” retorted Nicola getting a bit pissed off with the constant moans. “Granny's here!” she shouted seeing a brand new purple Peugeot 208 Hatchback car pull alongside a red car, into the smart detached house drive, in a more respectable area of the tired old railway town of Eastleigh, Hampshire, England.



“Mornin' Mum,” gasped Derrick already late for work as a bus driver, dashing past Doreen, Emma's mother and pecking her gradually falling old person's cheek. “Got to rush, they're all ready,” he lied jumping into his two year old, red Mazda 2 and ripping off at high speed.

Doreen chuntered to herself youth of today after watching his fast exit, turning her head back to the porch where Nicola, in a too large T shirt, stood waving to her, the arse end...the bare arse end of her slender model girl figured daughter hefting a chubby babe, trotting across the hall and upstairs behind Nicola, carrying Trudy the youngest of two Winnete offspring. All ready?



Doreen cleared the breakfast mess to the kitchen and loaded the dish washer after giving Nicola a big hug and kiss, seeing her wander to the sofa and watch the ever present children's TV channel CBBC. She glanced out to the back garden distracted by the breeze blown washing hanging on a dryer, centre of the neat, mower striped lawn. She pondered the skimpy multi colours of Emma's undies fluttering and remembered how once she could easily have worn the same clothing, but not now being a 62 year old spreading flesh, grey/white bobbed hair, grandmother of seven charming grand children. Two of those were in Australia where her son Geoff had emigrated to, the other three in London where her daughter Joanne lived. Emma and her loving, energetic husband Derrick with Nicola and Trudy were her nearest and dearest in geographic terms.



“Won't be long Mummy,” called Emma downstairs. “Just a bit of lippy - is madam ready, she didn't have any knickers on earlier.”

“I'll check.” With that Doreen went through to the lounge and could see instantly that the bright dark auburn curly headed girl was under dressed by the way she sprawled on the carpet, her head on her hands, her knees bent up, feet wide apart, not caring, glued to Peppa Pig on screen.

“Right young lady come on, let's get you sorted. Where's your knickers?” Doreen asked tapping the child's waving right foot.

“Dunno....”

“Silly billy, you must know. Didn't mummy or daddy get some out for you?” the old lady queried knowing each one in the family always wore freshly washed and laundered underwear every day. She ignored the negative answer suddenly thinking of something else.

“Oo did you see that new Amanda Redmond serial start this week, in India...no Goa I think...very good.....you know she's the one with a withered arm.”
“Burnt arm I think you'll find Mummy and her name is Redman,” corrected Emma.



“Mum, we really have to be off we're going to miss the.....you know.....” Emma said, nodding secretly at her eldest child, placing Trudy in the portable carry cot and sorting out its wheels to pack in the car. “Nicola! Come on now!” she ordered, shrilly, bustling outdoors to pack the car.

The girl ignored her until Doreen bent down, lightly slapped her bare bottom and grabbed a small arm to drag her up. Nicola grumpily stood, glared defiantly at her Grandmother and then ran outside and scrambled in the car. Doreen glanced at her wrist watch, shrugged, collected her hand bag as Emma came back in and grabbed hers, thinking her efficient, loving mother had sorted things. She slammed the door closed following Doreen to the Peugeot and climbing in.

“Glad this is is on a Saturday, she's got SAT tests this week and the office has asked me to go in a couple of days next week to sort something,” said Emma. She was a solicitor, now on maternity leave, specialising in divorce and separation matters, following Doreen's example who was a senior partner in a major national law firm with their HQ in Eastleigh, on a new business area between ASDA hypermarket and the new BMW dealers in Chesnut Avenue. “You OK for any baby sitting? I know you can wangle a day here and there.”

“Yes should be OK let you know,” Doreen answered shifting in her seat, manoeuvring a roundabout. She thought the worst.

“That John Cleese serial is good isn't it by the way?”



She parked in the multi storey outside WestQuay shopping mall. The family went up in a lift and Doreen excused herself to visit the toilet. Emma watched the throngs of shoppers, glad she was wearing only a simple,loose floaty floral dress and flat beige sandals judging by the overpowering heat in the mall considering the warm yet breezy day. She checked her watch, worrying about the time Doreen was taking, rocking Trudy's pushchair and keeping an eye on Nicola who was absorbed in a game on her tablet....as always.



Doreen appeared, a sheepish expression on her face, fastidiously smoothing her white and pale grey striped summery dress down, and joined Emma's hurried walk to where the big handout was for the giant teddy bear Nicola had won, not knowing yet, in a drawing competition sponsored by a mega toy multi national. Nicola was the UK winner. They got to the big store on time, the prize was presented to a suddenly transformed from a sour little Nicola to a joyous version as she hugged the nearly as big as her, Fluffy bear. It was all captured on the Southern TV cameras. The cameraman and presenter Sally Taylor after her interview informed Emma to watch out BBC News at 6pm that evening for Nicola's five minutes of fame.



The crowd filtered away. Emma, Doreen and the two girls made their way up to to the John Lewis coffee shop and tried to enjoy two Lattes. Doreen couldn't with her naughty guilty secret which she was dying to tell her daughter. Nicola had seen a school friend Flossie Rungren and joined her and her family, happily chatting and admiring the bear that dwarfed them both. Trudy gurgled happily beside Emma as Doreen leaned forward to whisper in a conspirational manner.



“Must be getting old darling,” she giggled, stirring her sweeteners in her coffee. “Can't think it's happened before but.....” she tailed off glancing around the busy cafe.

“Waahhhht Mummy?”

“I haven't got any knickers on, can you believe that? Me at my age going about bare bummed heh heh! Awful isn't it?”

“Well join the family, so am I as a matter of fact and so is Nicola. God! That's awful!” Emma gleefully shrieked getting some unwelcome glances. “I hope the TV crew edit out the bits that show Nicola's minnie. Did you see?”

“Yes, couldn't say in that crowd. They must have noticed too...anyway my fault, but we...you, were in such a hurry this morning. I forgot as we came out of the house........ hang on.... you?”



It was Emma's turn to look cutely sheepish in answering.

“It's something I often do on days like this,” she gestured at the sun outside. A comms aerial on a cruise ship moored at Southampton Western docks glinted brightly, as did a blaze of reflections from a bank of cabin windows on six decks. “I like a bit of air round the old lady garden,” she chuckled, flattening the hem of her white part transparent lace patterned dress on her thighs.

“I can just see your bra through it. It is nice...new?”

“Yes off one of those shopping channels on telly.....forty nine ninety nine.”

“Oh that was good, which one?”

“Can't remember - there's hundreds, got the paperwork at home. “No didn't see that Amanda Redman India serial.”



Nicola wandered over asking for another juice which Doreen funded and she went off with her school pal to buy.

“God! look at that, her dress is caught up her crack where she's been sitting on it. It's OK though, see that all over the place,” snickered Doreen. “One of the girls at work had to be told the other day, but her skirt was trapped in her knickers after she'd been to the toilet.”

“God! How awful. Just hope none of those pervs are behind me today...you know...or maybe you don't. Derrick told me about it. One of their drivers hid a camera on his bus to video up the skirts of passengers when they went upstairs. It was on the number 1 Winchester to Soton and there's lots of Chinese...or some teenage Asians university students on it. He's lost his job and in court soon”

“Silly man....tell you the truth I'd be chuffed if anyone wanted to look up my skirt. “ Doreen giggled, glancing around the cafe. “62 year old, dried up, widowed old bag...who wants to know.?”



“Muuuumm! Don't talk like that. Look at you....who's that man talking to the girls?” Emma changed tack. “Ah! It's OK it's Joe, Flossie's dad, he's going to sit with them and the two women.....God! Nicola and Flossy are on his knee, don't look...Oh my God!”

“Well at least that won't be on BBC TV tonight,” Doreen chuckled, seeing what Emma saw. He's nice. Wonder if I could sit on his knee,” she shrieked.

“Muuum! Stop it. You're a very beautiful woman with a high powered job, comfortably off, nice house, car...cars, nice holidays...on those monsters,” Emma gestured to the cruise liner. “What more could you want?”

“Want? Want? A nice man between my legs that's what.....” the elder lady paused as an old biddy at the next table glanced at them.

“........OK OK “ Emma butted in. “I know you miss Daddy but he died happily....Oh yes, whoops sorry” Emma realised she'd said too much.



“It's OK darling, on the bloody nest, that's how darling. You know, vinegar strokes for both of us. He always strived to make us both cli.......well never mind you know,” Doreen hushed, pursing her lips and eyeing the old biddy who was taking too much attention in the intimate conversation.

She turned to watch Nicola, who like Flossy had slid off Maurice Rungren's knee and was playing house with the toy Teddy Bear pouring things into cups and glasses while Susan Rungren chatted to another women at the table. She waved and managed to catch her grand daughters eye getting a return wave. Maurice looked over, smiled and waved.



Emma excused herself to go have a weewee and then to the grocery department. Maurice who had been busy for the last hour, capturing some delightful and delicious videos of Flossy and to add to the excitement her pal Nicola, saw her shapely butt exit and thought to himself he might do a little more exploration today........she was fucking tasty, knowing she must be the same age as his wife Susan. He surreptitiously checked things in his carry bag and told Susan he was going to the electrical department. He rose and sauntered towards Doreen's table, stopping as if an afterthought which it wasn't, introducing himself, placing his carry bag carefully and precisely and stooping resting on the table to say a few words. Shortly after he left he hunted the grocery department and fastened his gaze on a very occupied Emma.



Cleverly he moved around her, getting closer and closer, granted several moments when she was still very occupied or bending over, examining the quality of Waitrose fresh produce but purchasing little. She moved on back to Doreen, Maurice following and entering the cafe at a different time.

“Hello again,” he smarmed to the older woman” ..... and yes, my wife pointed you out Mrs Winette, the gorgeous Nicola's mummy. Don't they play and look good together\?” he chortled gazing across at the girls.

***

“That all went well darling,” beamed Doreen, helping Emma extract the huge toy bear from the car, Nicola having dashed inside to have a weewee. “Think she's happy. Wasn't he a lovely man, he's popping round later to have a look at my fungus...it's rife and growing all over the place,” she added.

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head watching her mother waddle into the house, just as Nicola had done much earlier, her thin dress firmly lodged up her crack.. Dear Mummy do be careful she mused. Yes he is a handsome brute of a man. Got a reputation in the district, bit wild too, likes his beer and not known for his gardening expertise...he's an accountant!

The shopping trip such as it was had ended in one of the many cocktail bars scattered round the new Watermark cinema entertainment addition to the mall. Doreen seemed to be on a high so Emma had driven the small car to Doreen's home in Hiltingbury Road, Chandlers Ford after dropping Nicola and the bear at home, then caught a local bus back to the Winette residence.



Doreen tidied her hair, renewed her lipstick, licked off her two inch heels and donned some sandals. She had a weewee, went downstairs and poured herself a large glass of Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc and moistly waited.



A black neatly bearded man built like a brick shithouse, parked a beat up maroon Vauxhall Astra on the steep driveway up to her house and she let the doorbell chime....rather than being there to open it, trying not to be too forward. Finally they kissed a bit too enthusiastically for two persons that had only met about an hour and a half ago. She disengaged herself from his spade like mitts, one grasping her right buttock and led him through the kitchen into the conservatory. He took up her offer of a glass of white wine and slumped heavily into a chair, musing that he still hadn't felt any undies, just before Doreen arrived brandishing both the bottle and her own topped up drink.



While small talking about the shopping, the teddy bear, the families they eyed each other up. Doreen admired Maurice's bulk clad in a Trojans rugby club shirt, beige chinos and Nike trainers. He, in turn was lusting rather than admiring...that could happen later, the wide open view between her lounging thighs and the hairy quim nestling at the join, just as he had in the John Lewis cafe.



“Does your daughter take after you then?” Maurice chuckled, his eyes barely moving their focus.

“Well job wise yes, and maybe other ways and little Nicola too hah hah!” Doreen giggled, putting both feet on the floor tightly together....just to keep him guessing.”But at my age I just forget a lot” she tittered.

“Yes I did notice, quite delightful...both of them,” he chortled, pointedly shifting his seat. “Er Emma didn't buy much veg. A cucumber and a courgette I think.” he added.

“Yes she needed two big ones like that, for later, don't know what she has planned.”

“Oh I can guess, she was choosing them carefully.....anyway lets have a look at you problem... unruly fungus you said, Unusual at this time of the year,” Maurice leaned forward.



“Oh I don't know, it seems all year round as far as I am concerned.” With that Doreen slouched down on the cushioned rattan couch, making sure her white/grey striped dress was wrinkled up under her waist past her bare butt and pointed to her vagina, with a big smile.

“Oh I see, it's not doing too badly still alive and new growth,” Maurice giggled, smoothing the back of a big mitt over Doreen's bush. “Bit of dead stuff,” he advised flattening back some unruly silvery grey follicles. “But that is to be expected. I can clear that for you and the path...that's getting a trifle foisty you know. Old fungus tends to droop and scatter Hmm!.... let's see.” he suggested, his finger tip coursing up her slippery slit.

At that moment a phone warbled and Doreen airily gestured to it on a side table. Maurice got the hint and went for it handing it to her. Lots of nods, yeses, I sees, oohs and ahhs... and finally a 'yes OK six o'clock BBC OK darling...yes I'm fine thanks fiddling with a few things in the garden you know... OK Byeeeee!”



“That was Tristram Sanctiminy Harfhard from the BBC just to say they have done a bit of trimming and editing, cutting unwanted snips from the newsreel and little Nicola's slot will be on after six thirty tonight.” she shrieked spilling the wine and ignoring it. “I do hope the nation won't see darling Nicola's slot this evening,” she roared with laughter, spilling more wine.

Maurice being gallant if nothing else grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the spillage on her heaving bosom, thinking that was a private pleasure he would have later. It would team nicely with the as yet unseen hidden camera views of the spectacular slot he had is eyes on right now.



He shagged her old socks off and left her bare but happy.





THE END

 

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It was a genuine mistake, sorry, I was busy doing lots of things and obviously not concentrating. Where has it bee moved to?