Was it my latent exhibitionism or the tweed skirted implied conservatism of the woman that had made it so erotic. Kenny was taking me out driving agai... a few days later when I spotted the older tweed skirted lady. She was bicycling down the same county lane where she'd watched me fucking my black lover previously. The woman was on a sit up and beg black cycle that was normal in 1946 and as we neared Kenny tooted the Rolls Royce's horn. This startled the lady who swerved, hit a tree and fell. My bathrobe flew up and I sat down in the snow on my bare bottom, and my half hard cock into full view. The people who had just come out, helped me up, and smiled when the lady said, “He, don’t break it, don’t let the ‘würst’ get cold”. She winked and then continued on their way.I walked in, and on seeing that June was busy with registering the new guests I took a seat near the fire place and picked up some magazines. The only ‘regular’ reading material was the newspaper, the rest was erotic,. Even better, she's a Catholic, so she was raised to submit to men. I can and do use her any way I want. She never complains and always obeys.Her daughter Lindsay is another story. Same hair color as her mama, small but nicely-developing breasts, eyes of a deeper blue, much thinner, with long, smooth legs, similar skin tone, and naturally-pouty lips that cause any man to have very inappropriate thoughts. Unlike her mom, she's an avowed atheist, although she's really not old or experienced enough. She was kind of short, about 5'2, had short blonde hair and was wearing a nice dark pinstripe suit, with a skirt a bit shorter than I would have expected and showing more cleavage than most. Middle aged and denying it, I figured. Still, she wasn't too bad to look at, and I like mature curvy women anyway. It could certainly be worse!We introduced ourselves and got down to showing the house. She seemed quite friendly, almost flirty. I'm not used to being flirted with, so I assumed it was.