If you have read With Her Mother's Approval you will know my burgening relationship with big Lily Bones was initiated by her mother, a fearsome local politician called Mary. She was a larger-than-life character in a larger-than-average body and around 50 years old. Greying mousy permed hair and sensible dresses, big chest, and all in all, you could imagine her having been referred to in the 1970s as Thunderthighs. All of which added up to a bit too much for many men, but not for me.

One afternoon a couple of days after my date with Lily, I bumped into Mary in town, and she virtually dragged me into a cafe to pump me for information about her daughter. I didn't give her anything really personal or intimate, but I put her mind at rest that Lily was basically okay and Mary shouldn't worry about her as regards her ability to one day find the right man and live a normal life.

It is often the case with extroverts that the offspring don't have the same power or resilience, but because the parent sees so much of themselves in the younger one, they assume they can deal with life with the same ease.

It was getting on for five o'clock by the time we both checked, and because I didn't have to go back to the office and she had no commitments, we moved on to a pub and had a few glasses of wine - the usual depressing muck they serve up because it's cheap.

"Why don't we get a decent bottle from the off licence and take it to your place?" she said brightly and, I thought, trying to sound innocent. "I can rustle up something to eat if you like."

I had some pasta and tomatoes and bits and pieces, so she was confident she could produce something good enough for this young bachelor.

I can't deny I was feeling quite interested in being alone with this woman, as unlikely as a personal relationship with her might be.

I put on some music and poured the wine while she busied herself in the kitchen and emerged in only 30 minutes with something involving red peppers and anchovies. We sat at the little table that served as a dining area and the conversation became increasingly relaxed and convivial. I didn't feel as if I was in the driving seat, as I had with Lily, but was happy to let Mary take the wheel.

This she did by excusing herself and spending a long time in the bathroom before breezing back in with her customary gush of life.

"That's better," she said. "Just freshened up a bit." She seemed pleased with herself, although not overconfident, and she smelled faintly of soap and a spritz of perfume. There was a barely detectable vulnerability about her now.

Mary stood in the middle of the room with her back to me. And she kept standing there, exuding that uncanny female wish to be approached. The sensible dress I mentioned was in this case, knee-length, loose, and gunmetal black. There was no zip that I could see, which would mean it had to be hoisted over her head if one were to remove it, which I did intend to do if things went well in the meantime.

Slightly apprehensively, I went up to her and put my arms around her. This was apparently the right move, because she relaxed against me, her back on my chest and big buttocks cushioning my bulge, which was beginning to increase. My hands were on her ribcage and I could feel her willing me to move them up, so I did. I cupped her breasts, and she exhaled as if with relief. I turned her around and we kissed, her lips ripe and succulent, her tongue eager in my mouth. I leaned back a little to look in her eyes, which would give me a better idea of what was happening in her mind. There was a strange air of puzzlement in there, along with the natural bullishness which she was restraining.

I fell to my knees and reached up with both hands inside her skirt. Finding the sides of her knickers, I pulled them down to her ankles and helped her remove them completely. Before I could make my next move she put a hand on my head for me to stay there. She lifted the hem of the dress and dropped it down my back, plunging me into semi-darkness - the heavenly semi-derkness of a woman's inner sanctum. She lifted one leg and put the foot on a chair, exposing her crotch, which was warm and fragrant, freshly washed and inviting. I moved my face into her furry canopy and my nose touched her clitoris, so I wiggled it a little, and she trembled. Fumbling upwards with my hands, I pulled her labia apart and got my face right into her cunt.

Again, right decision. She gasped and did something with her thighs to give me better access. This was still not ideal, though, and she knew it. She turned around and leaned forward so I was licking her from behind, and she began muttering.

"God, yes." Then she shuffled a bit and muttered, "Up. Up." My face was now in her bottom. "Yes," she hissed gratefully. "Is... that... all right?"

In response, I licked her strongly right up her crack, and she flinched before pushing back.

"Yes," she urged. "Don't stop."

I had no intention of stopping. If she shared sexual genes with her daughter, she was going to cum any time at all. She pulled the dress up and off and expertly removed her bra before returning to the fray.

"Lick my arse," she moaned and then gave the same cry as Lily had at a similar stage. Seizing control of the situation, she hurled herself onto the settee and pulled me on top of her, wrapping me in her big, motherly embrace. Those arms somehow seemed out of practice at the sexual hug.

"Do you know how long it is since I was with a man?" she said carelessly. "Five years. Five fucking years. The bastards don't even see me anymore, let alone look. Longingly, I mean."

"I think you're gorgeous," I said, stroking her cheek.

"Ooh," she giggled. "You smell of me. You're a very naughty man. I knew you would be." All the while, her hands were all over my fully clothed body. "Let's get you naked," she said, striving to get back in charge. "Stand up and strip for me."

I dutifully pulled my shirt off and quickly removed my shoes, glad that they were slip-ons. Then my socks and we were ready for the big reveal. I undid my belt and the button and zip of my sensible work chinos. Mary reached up and pulled them down until they fell of their own accord with the weight of my keys. Then she reached up for my underpants, much as I had reached up for hers, and pulled them down. She gave my erection a quick kiss before completing her mission of removing my encumbrances. Then she sat up and placed her enthusiastic mouth over my knob. She sucked me like the woman she was: one who hadn't done this in five years and wanted to make up for lost time.

To improve the position, she pulled me so my knees were on the settee and my cock was lower, easier for her to reach. Her hands held one buttock each before she moved the right hand down to feel my balls. She was wanking me with her mouth but suddenly stopped, remembering that if she took that all the way she would have to wait to be fucked.

"I want you to shag me," she said. "Is that still the word? I want to be shagged. Doggie fashion."

With that, she pushed me out of the way and assumed the position I had been in, knees on the settee and arse in the air. It was extra exciting to remember that this wild woman with her primitive urges was the strident voice of the people in her day-to-day life. This was the opponent of slackness and disorder, the champion of decency and common sense. And she was naked on my settee with her arse looking at me, the anus that I had already licked and through which she had already had one orgasm.

"Not my arse," she said urgently. "My fanny. The pink one."

I mounted her - and in that position the word is absolutely appropriate. And I plunged into her experienced but neglected hole and rode her strongly as she groaned and bucked beneath me. We added up to a frantic, wobbling machine, hot and sweating, anchored only by my penis in her vagina, and that intersection was becoming increasingly loose as she generated that lovely self-lubricant. I banged her harder, as that was what she seemed to want, and this strong, proactive woman began to whimper as she lost control. Then she wailed out loud and writhed with ecstasy, so I let go of my pent-up semen and flooded her with it.

"Holy fuck," she gasped. "Don't tell anyone, but you can shag me again."