02-06-2026, 04:19 PM
Coming Home
The flight from Sydney back to London felt interminable. Thirty-odd hours of travel, even in business class, left me knackered and desperate for my own bed. But more than that, I was desperate to see Sarah.
We'd spoken on the phone twice during my week in Sydney—once right after I'd landed, when I'd given her the broad strokes of the Shanghai encounter, and once midway through the week when she'd demanded more details. Both conversations had ended with phone sex, Sarah touching herself as I described Lin's body, Wei's enthusiasm, the things we'd done in that hotel room.
"I want to meet them," she'd said breathlessly, right before she came. "James, I really want to meet them."
"I know, love. I know."
Now, finally pulling into our drive in Weybridge at half past seven on a Friday evening, I felt a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. The house was lit up, warm and welcoming, and I could see Sarah's silhouette moving past the kitchen window.
I grabbed my luggage and let myself in through the front door.
"James!" Sarah appeared in the hallway, and Christ, she looked gorgeous. She was wearing a silk dressing gown that clung to her curves, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, her face lit up with genuine pleasure at seeing me. At forty-five, she could still stop traffic—regular yoga and Pilates kept her body toned, and she had that natural elegance that only improved with age.
"Hello, beautiful," I said, dropping my bags and pulling her into my arms. She smelled of her favourite perfume, something expensive and floral, and underneath that, the familiar scent of her skin.
We kissed, properly, her tongue sliding against mine, her body pressed against me. When we finally broke apart, she was grinning.
"Upstairs," she said. "Now. I want to see everything."
I didn't need telling twice.
In our bedroom, I pulled out my phone whilst Sarah settled onto the bed, tucking her legs underneath her. The dressing gown had fallen open slightly, revealing the lacy black bra she wore underneath. No knickers, I noticed. She'd been waiting for me.
"Right," I said, sitting beside her. "So. Shanghai."
"Show me the photos first," she said, her eyes bright with excitement.
I opened the album Lin had sent me and handed Sarah the phone. She scrolled through slowly, her breath catching at certain images. There was Lin, naked and spread-eagled on the bed, my face between her thighs. There was me, fucking her from behind whilst Wei filmed. There was a video—Sarah pressed play and we both watched as Lin rode me, her small breasts bouncing, her head thrown back in pleasure.
"Fuck, James," Sarah breathed. "She's stunning."
"She is," I agreed. "And she wants to meet you. Both of them do."
Sarah looked up at me, her pupils dilated. "Tell me everything. From the beginning."
So I did. I told her about the language barrier at the airport, about Lin and Wei stepping in to help, about dinner and the metro ride and Lin's casual revelation that she was an escort. I told her about the proposition, about going back to their hotel room, about the things we'd done.
"She kept talking about you," I said. "About our family. She asked if her pussy tasted like yours, like the girls'."
Sarah's hand had drifted between her legs, touching herself through the silk. "What did you say?"
"I told her I'd never tasted the girls. And she said I should."
"Fuck," Sarah whispered.
"Wei said he wanted to fuck you. Wanted to fuck the girls, get them ready for me to lick."
Sarah's fingers moved faster. "And that turned you on?"
"God, yes. I came so hard, Sarah. Thinking about it, about all of us together."
"I want that," Sarah said, her voice thick. "James, I really want that."
I took the phone from her and pulled up my message thread with Lin. "She's been texting me all week. Look."
Sarah read through the messages, her eyes widening. Lin had been explicit—talking about what she wanted to do to Sarah, to our children, to all of us together. There were photos too—Lin in lingerie, Lin touching herself, Lin with Wei's cock in her mouth.
"They live in Ealing," I said. "Just a few miles away. They want to come over. Meet everyone."
Sarah looked at me, her hand still between her legs. "Everyone? You mean..."
"Tom, Emma, and Sophie. Yes."
Our children. All adults now, all living their own lives, but still our babies in so many ways. The thought of involving them in this was both terrifying and incredibly arousing.
"Do you think they'd be interested?" Sarah asked quietly.
"I don't know. But there's only one way to find out."
Sarah bit her lip, thinking. Then she smiled, that wicked smile I'd fallen in love with twenty-five years ago. "Let's ask them."
The flight from Sydney back to London felt interminable. Thirty-odd hours of travel, even in business class, left me knackered and desperate for my own bed. But more than that, I was desperate to see Sarah.
We'd spoken on the phone twice during my week in Sydney—once right after I'd landed, when I'd given her the broad strokes of the Shanghai encounter, and once midway through the week when she'd demanded more details. Both conversations had ended with phone sex, Sarah touching herself as I described Lin's body, Wei's enthusiasm, the things we'd done in that hotel room.
"I want to meet them," she'd said breathlessly, right before she came. "James, I really want to meet them."
"I know, love. I know."
Now, finally pulling into our drive in Weybridge at half past seven on a Friday evening, I felt a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. The house was lit up, warm and welcoming, and I could see Sarah's silhouette moving past the kitchen window.
I grabbed my luggage and let myself in through the front door.
"James!" Sarah appeared in the hallway, and Christ, she looked gorgeous. She was wearing a silk dressing gown that clung to her curves, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, her face lit up with genuine pleasure at seeing me. At forty-five, she could still stop traffic—regular yoga and Pilates kept her body toned, and she had that natural elegance that only improved with age.
"Hello, beautiful," I said, dropping my bags and pulling her into my arms. She smelled of her favourite perfume, something expensive and floral, and underneath that, the familiar scent of her skin.
We kissed, properly, her tongue sliding against mine, her body pressed against me. When we finally broke apart, she was grinning.
"Upstairs," she said. "Now. I want to see everything."
I didn't need telling twice.
In our bedroom, I pulled out my phone whilst Sarah settled onto the bed, tucking her legs underneath her. The dressing gown had fallen open slightly, revealing the lacy black bra she wore underneath. No knickers, I noticed. She'd been waiting for me.
"Right," I said, sitting beside her. "So. Shanghai."
"Show me the photos first," she said, her eyes bright with excitement.
I opened the album Lin had sent me and handed Sarah the phone. She scrolled through slowly, her breath catching at certain images. There was Lin, naked and spread-eagled on the bed, my face between her thighs. There was me, fucking her from behind whilst Wei filmed. There was a video—Sarah pressed play and we both watched as Lin rode me, her small breasts bouncing, her head thrown back in pleasure.
"Fuck, James," Sarah breathed. "She's stunning."
"She is," I agreed. "And she wants to meet you. Both of them do."
Sarah looked up at me, her pupils dilated. "Tell me everything. From the beginning."
So I did. I told her about the language barrier at the airport, about Lin and Wei stepping in to help, about dinner and the metro ride and Lin's casual revelation that she was an escort. I told her about the proposition, about going back to their hotel room, about the things we'd done.
"She kept talking about you," I said. "About our family. She asked if her pussy tasted like yours, like the girls'."
Sarah's hand had drifted between her legs, touching herself through the silk. "What did you say?"
"I told her I'd never tasted the girls. And she said I should."
"Fuck," Sarah whispered.
"Wei said he wanted to fuck you. Wanted to fuck the girls, get them ready for me to lick."
Sarah's fingers moved faster. "And that turned you on?"
"God, yes. I came so hard, Sarah. Thinking about it, about all of us together."
"I want that," Sarah said, her voice thick. "James, I really want that."
I took the phone from her and pulled up my message thread with Lin. "She's been texting me all week. Look."
Sarah read through the messages, her eyes widening. Lin had been explicit—talking about what she wanted to do to Sarah, to our children, to all of us together. There were photos too—Lin in lingerie, Lin touching herself, Lin with Wei's cock in her mouth.
"They live in Ealing," I said. "Just a few miles away. They want to come over. Meet everyone."
Sarah looked at me, her hand still between her legs. "Everyone? You mean..."
"Tom, Emma, and Sophie. Yes."
Our children. All adults now, all living their own lives, but still our babies in so many ways. The thought of involving them in this was both terrifying and incredibly arousing.
"Do you think they'd be interested?" Sarah asked quietly.
"I don't know. But there's only one way to find out."
Sarah bit her lip, thinking. Then she smiled, that wicked smile I'd fallen in love with twenty-five years ago. "Let's ask them."