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Chapter 2: Jared’s Story

**Note to the reader: This is the continuation of ‘Karen and The Pool Boy,’ my first submission to Literotica (it is suggested, though not required, that you read that story first). I have decided to write this part of the tale from the male perspective, both as a challenge to myself and as a way to fully describe the kind of character that I personally find most irresistible in the mature woman/younger man genre. This story is my own original creation, but I owe a debt of gratitude to the wonderful roleplay partners I have had over the years – there is a little of each of them in the character of Jared. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it and as always, feedback is adored.**

My senses were slow to return after the way Mrs. McMillan had made me cum. For a whole minute, I thought maybe I had just died of a heart attack or something, that was how good it felt. But in the next instant I realized I was still alive because I could feel her mouth on my cock, her tongue on my balls as she licked me clean. I was so sensitive after what she had done to me that it almost hurt but I didn’t want her to stop. Slowly I struggled to lift my head from the couch and the figure of Mrs. McMillan, on her knees in front of me, came into view.

If what she was doing to me felt good, then watching her do it was pure heaven. She had my thighs spread open and as I watched, she alternated between suckling my balls and licking at my glistening wet shaft with her soft, pink tongue. What really turned me on, though, was that she was watching me watch her, holding my gaze with those amazing eyes that seemed to change color with her mood. She stroked her fingers along my inner thigh and I shuddered. Even though I had just blown the biggest load of my life I was still rock-hard and I wondered to myself, as my head lolled back against the couch cushions, just how I had ever gotten so lucky.

* * *

All those years I had been cleaning that pool and I could count on one hand the times that Mrs. McMillan had ever acknowledged me. Not that I was surprised or anything – she was a grown woman and I could never even get anywhere with girls my own age. Painfully shy and awkward, I was the definition of a late-bloomer: I sprouted to 6’1” in the 9th grade and besides my unnatural height, I was also sidled with thick glasses to correct my myopia, big ears that stuck out from either side of my head, and terrible acne. I was a notorious klutz, famous for tripping over my own feet, and I was too chickenshit to experiment with cigarettes and pot like the popular kids did. My nerd status was cemented by the fact that I excelled in school and constantly brought home straight A’s. My parents praised me as the perfect son and I was proud of my high GPA, but I secretly started to wonder if I was destined to live out the rest of my life as a virginal, scholarly dork.

Then, things started to change. I got contact lenses when I turned seventeen and my skin miraculously cleared around the same time. To top it off, I discovered there were a couple of sports I was actually good at. By senior year, I was on both the swim team and the varsity baseball team and I had finally developed enough muscle to fill out my scrawny frame. I was amazed because suddenly, out of nowhere, girls would talk to me in the halls or smile at me in class and I loved all the new attention. But there were problems. I was still very shy and very studious and worst of all, I was cursed with the stigma of being “too nice” to date. Alot of girls were attracted to me, but once they got to know me, they only saw me as the brotherly type or as the one they could come to when they needed a shoulder to cry on. When they wanted to get laid, I was left home alone to jerk off while they went out with some asshole who would treat them like shit. So it was that by my eighteenth birthday, my experience with women was still limited to a few brief make-out sessions and my own private sexual fantasies.

Mrs. McMillan, ironically enough, had held a starring role in many of those fantasies for as long as I could remember. I had only seen her on a few occasions but when I did, those brief glimpses would provide enough fuel for weeks of erotic fantasy. She had such a hot body – like a pin-up model from those old vintage calendars – and even though she was older, none of the girls my own age could compete with her dangerous curves. I had masturbated many times to the image of her big breasts squeezed into the top of her skimpy tennis outfits and just the fleeting memory of watching her bend over in a pair of shorts would make my cock throb in my pants. My favorite thing was to stroke myself while imagining that I was plowing her pussy with my dick, her incredible tits wobbling on her chest as she uttered a series of sexy moans. Pretending that I was buried inside her to the hilt, I would erupt like a geyser and fill the imaginary Mrs. McMillan with my hot sperm.

That said, you can imagine escort bayan my surprise when I entered the backyard for what I thought would be just a regular afternoon of pool cleaning, only to find Mrs. McMillan there in a white bikini that looked like it was two sizes too small. My dick went stiff the minute I saw her and if anyone had told me that I would be shooting my load into her mouth a little less than half an hour later, I would never have believed them. Apparently miracles did happen – either that or this was the best fucking dream I’d ever had. When I managed to lift my head from the couch again, she was still watching me, wearing what could only be described as a Cheshire cat grin. I felt suddenly shy.

“Hi,” I said stupidly.

She laughed. “Hi yourself, stud.” She had such a sexy way of talking, her voice was so warm and sultry yet sweet, like audible honey. Her next words caught me off guard. “Was that your first blowjob, Jared?”

I couldn’t help blushing and I dropped my eyes from hers. “Uh, yeah. How did you know?” I must have been even lamer than I thought if she could already tell.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” She was stroking my leg tenderly, as if she sensed my insecurity. “I just figured you’d never had a woman suck your cock because you seemed to take such pleasure in each sensation. The way you moaned, the way you squirmed… I could tell you loved it and you just don’t know how much of a turn-on that was for me.”

“Really?” Between the way she was touching me and the way she was talking, I was about as hot as a lit firecracker and as hard as I had ever been. This fact was not lost on Mrs. McMillan, who reached up and gave my cock a gentle tug. It felt so good – I shuddered and grit my teeth to keep from moaning loudly.

“Yes really, Jared. It’s been so long since anyone has made me feel as sexy as you just did,” She purred, giving my cock a couple more strokes before rolling gracefully to her feet in front of me.

At this point, I was totally confused. What was she talking about? I hadn’t done anything except cum in her mouth and I had no idea how that could be sexy. From what I gathered, most of the girls I knew thought it was really gross. Then again, this no schoolgirl. This was Mrs. McMillan and I wasn’t about to challenge her opinion, especially when she shrugged her way out of the see-through robe-type thingie she was wearing and draped it over the armchair. Now nothing hindered my view of her bikini-clad body. Mrs. McMillan turned to smile at me. “You know, I bet I can think of something else we can do that you’ll enjoy.”

More than the blowjob? I couldn’t fathom anything I’d enjoy more than that. But as I watched, she slid her thumbs under the straps of the bikini top, stretching them forward so that her big tits threatened to spill out. She wore a knowing little smile as she paused. “Would you like to see me naked, Jared?”

My naked dick gave an involuntary twitch at her words and I reached for it, stroking myself as I nodded wordlessly. She shook her head at me. “No… remember, if you want something, you need to ask for it.”

She was playing with me. I knew it and I didn’t care. In fact, my cock swelled again when she said that. “Yes, Mrs. McMillan. Can I please see you naked?”

“Good boy, Jared.” Her smile widened and she acquiesced, pulling the straps down over her shoulders and baring her breasts to me. It was a wonderful sight – in stark contrast to the rest of her tanned body, Mrs. McMillan’s heavy tits were milky white where her bikini top had covered them and each breast was topped with a caramel-colored areola the size of a silver dollar. Centered squarely between that was a luscious pale brown nipple. I longed to suckle one of those nipples, to just bury my face between her naked breasts and then cum all over them. I stroked myself, moaning softly as I watched her reach up and squeeze her own tits in her hands. “Mrs. McMillan… you’re beautiful…” I was dimly aware that I sounded like a love-struck dumbass.

“And you, Jared, are so sweet…” Her smile radiated sensuality and it was the first time ever that I didn’t resent being called “sweet” by someone of the opposite sex.

Meanwhile, Mrs. McMillan’s private show continued. She untied the bikini top and tossed it away, her heavy breasts swaying with the movement, and her hands went next to the strings at either side of her hips. She had such wonderful hips – they were wide and even further emphasized by her narrow waist. I wet my lips as she slid the bikini bottoms off, moving her hips from side to side to work them down her legs, past her knees. Leaving the bikini bottoms in a small heap on the carpet, she stepped towards me and I could see her pussy at the apex of her taut thighs. Dark curls of pubic hair hid most of it from me, but when she walked I could see the glistening pink slit of her labia, and above that, the throbbing bud of her clitoris. My hand moved faster, stroking escort bayan along the shaft of my throbbing cock, and my eyes narrowed to slits.

“Oh, fuck…” I moaned, squeezing my cock to keep from cumming right that second. I was caught in a haze of pure lust and Mrs. McMillan was watching me.

“Mmmm, you’re getting so very excited, aren’t you, baby?” She crooned softly as she came forward, standing right near where I sat on the couch and extending her hand to rake her fingers through my hair. I imagined I could hear excitement in her voice too, but I was so far gone I could no longer distinguish between reality and my own horny delusions.

“Yes,” I groaned, eyes closing as I turned my head towards the gentle touch of her fingers.

“Let me watch you play with yourself, Jared…” Her voice was breathy, but demanding, “Show me what you do when you’re all by yourself and you want to make yourself cum.”

I groaned, feeling embarrassed but so turned on by her request. I was already stroking myself, the fingers of my right hand curled around the stiff pole of my shaft. I let my knees fall even further apart and I reached down with my other hand to tug at my balls, rolling them around against my palm as I manipulated my cock.

“Mmm, yes… that’s it, Jared. Stroke it for me…” I could heard Mrs. McMillan breathing heavily beside me, and when I opened my eyes, I saw that she had lifted one leg and she had her foot resting against the couch cushion beside me. Her thighs were spread open and I could see her pussy up close – the dark curls of her pubic hair framed the thick, glistening wet lips of her labia, which were parted by her perfectly manicured fingers as she delved them inside of herself. I could detect the musky scent of her arousal in the air between us and I was held captive by the sight of her two fingers plunging in and out of her juicy pussy, while her thumb teased her engorged clit. Her hips rocked forward and she murmured soft, aching little sounds of pleasure that made my cock twitch. Her eyes lifted from my crotch just as I gazed up at her. It was sensory overload and suddenly, I felt that familiar, almost overwhelming tingle in my balls. Helplessly, I blurted out: “Oh shit, Mrs. McMillan, I’m gonna cum again…”

Without warning she reached down and pulled my hands away from my crotch. I whimpered, not expecting this, and my ass arched up off of the couch as she linked her fingers with mine. My hips seemed to have a mind of their own and bucked wildly, my cock desperate for some kind of friction to relieve the deep ache in my balls. Mrs. McMillan, meanwhile, had climbed up on top of me, one knee on either side of my thighs. I felt the soft brush of her full breasts against my chest, hot nipples burning into my skin, and then she slowly dropped her hips into my lap. This caused the juicy slit of her drooling pussy to make contact with my hot, hard cock and I squeezed my eyes shut at the delicious sensation. I tried to control myself but I couldn’t – I humped fervently against her and the feeling of naked our sexes rubbing together was bringing me to the brink of orgasm once more.

“Oh Jared…” Her voice was breathless, her breathing labored, and she squeezed my hands against her own, her hips rolling forward just as mine did. I couldn’t believe something could feel so good – the swollen lips of her labia, slick with her musky juices, coated my eager dick and in the next moment, she had lowered her mouth to mine. We kissed hungrily, her tongue pushing gently past my parted lips to stroke along my own; I responded by mimicking her movements, rolling my tongue over hers and tasting remnants of my own cum in the process. The kiss deepened, then broke off when neither of us could breathe any longer.

“God… you feel so good…” She whispered hotly. I couldn’t even find the words to respond. Our naked bodies were still rubbing lewdly together, and the moment I opened my eyes, I found her staring at me. She was beautiful – her dark hair like a halo around her flushed face, her lips swollen from our kisses and her golden-hued eyes burned with a desire that matched my own. She leaned in to kiss me again, slowly and languidly this time, and then pulled back, gazing into my eyes. “Have you ever been fucked, Jared?”

Between us, my cock throbbed at that lurid question. I shook my head. Then, remembering her rule, I panted out: “No, Mrs. McMillan.”

“Do you want me to fuck you? Right now?”

“Ohhh yes…” It was almost a whimper.

“Yes what, Jared? Tell me what you want…”

It almost pained me to respond but I would have done anything she asked me to at that moment. “Please, Mrs. McMillan…” I begged, “Please fuck me…”

That satisfied her. She released one of my hands and then her mouth found mine again. She kissed me so tenderly, her hips rocking against my own, and then the next thing I felt was her hand around my cock, guiding me to the entrance bayan escort gaziantep of her juicy cunt. She shifted her weight forward, lifting herself a bit before impaling herself on my cock with a low, guttural moan. I could feel the head of my dick nudging its way between her wet lips, parting them just before her tight pussy drew me in and swallowed me whole.

Words fail to describe how it felt to have my dick inside her, or to capture my own excitement at that moment. Her pussy was hot and wet as it enveloped my cock and her inner muscles milked me lovingly the way that her mouth had, only this new sensation was so much more intense. I could feel it spread all the way into my thighs and my lower belly – a hot, tingling feeling that made my asscheeks clench involuntarily. My hips rocked up against hers, wanting to get as much of my cock inside of her as I could. Mrs. McMillan’s arms came around my shoulders and it was all I could do to sit there, my face buried against the place where her neck met her shoulder, my hands gripping her womanly hips as she controlled the rhythm of our lovemaking.

“Mrs. McMillan…” My moan was muffled against her neck and she nuzzled her way along my hairline, kissing both my closed eyelids and the tip of my nose. As she kissed me, my hands explored her body, trailing my fingers along her sides, all the way up until I reached her breasts. I eagerly captured one in each hand and she gave shuddering intake of breath when I squeezed tentatively. Her tits were so soft and deliciously heavy, her erect nipples twin pinpoints of heat that burned against each of my palms. I lowered my head, my hands sliding away under her arms to stroke at her back, and my searching mouth blindly found her left nipple. Instinctively, I began to suck it.

“Jared… ooohhhh…”Her head fell back between her shoulders, exposing the slender column of her neck. I heard her whimper when my lips formed a tight seal around the soft flesh of her breast, my tongue undulating against her nipple. She rolled her hips faster, her pussy milking my cock wetly with each sucking motion of my mouth. I struggled to hold out, to make my first time last, but I could feel her mouth nuzzling at my ear, her tongue tracing the shape of it as her breath fanned against my neck. “Mmm, it feels so good to fuck, doesn’t it Jared?” she whispered, her words broken by something that sounded like a whimper or a sob, “Oooh, that’s it, baby. Fuck me like a good boy and make me cum on your cock…”

When I heard her talking to me like that, it was all over. I moaned deeply, her nipple slipping from my mouth with a wet “pop” and my cock gave a single throb before it exploded, blasting cum deep into her pussy just like I had so many times in my fantasies. Only now it was finally real and I could feel her soft breasts, I could taste her skin with my tongue. I could hear her voice at my ear as I sent spurt after spurt of hot jizz deep into her womb. Her commentary made my toes curl: “Oooh, that’s it, honey… Oh, fuck yes… you’ve got so much cum for me, don’t you? Mmm, give it all to me, baby boy…”

I felt like I was never going to stop cumming for her, my entire body trembling as hot pleasure reeled off of me in waves. Mrs. McMillan’s arms tightened around me, her body seeming to go completely still in my arms for a moment. Then, I felt a rush of wetness flooding up around my cock; her pussy was spasming around my dick as it was wedged inside her, and the clenching sensations of her hot cunt served to prolong my release. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was filled with wonder at the fact that she was actually cumming.

“Ohhhh Jared… Jared, Jared…” My name was litany on her lips, repeated over and over again before dissolving into helpless cries of pleasure. She bucked her hips wildly against me as our bodies writhed together for several long moments, both of us overcome with the pleasure of our own orgasms.

It seemed a long time later before I could breathe again. Mrs. McMillan was still sitting on my dick, her hands sliding along my bare shoulders as she kissed my collarbone. Wordlessly, I let my hands do some traveling – with fingers spread, I smoothed my way along her bare back, then down to her hips again. She murmured softly as my hands trailed along her sides, over her ribcage. Her breasts were my goal, wanting to feel the weight of them again, but she leaned back and stopped me with a kiss to my mouth.

“Jared, darling, that was wonderful,” Her hands came up and grasped my wrists. “But my husband will be home soon. You have to go before he catches us like this.”

Given the fact that I had known this was coming, I was surprised by how disappointed I felt. I was still buried inside of her but I was starting to go soft and she pulled her hips back to allow my cum-coated cock to slide out of her oozing cunt. Her pussy lips seemed reluctant to let me go, clinging to the meat of my wet shaft as she swung her leg over me to stand. Enthralled and still very horny, I gazed up at her. “Mrs. McMillan… can we please do this again next week?”

She smiled and leaned down to kiss me again, a wet, lingering kiss. “Maybe,” she murmured against my mouth, “But only if you promise to be a very good boy and not tell anyone about what we’ve done this afternoon.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I got home Friday from work and I had a message from my neighbor across the street that her computer was acting funny. Some how I have become her personal tech support over the years and this call was nothing new.

Judy is about 15 years older than me, she is in her upper 40’s, but still has all the curves in the right places. I think she has been divorced for about three years now. For as long as I can remember she hasn’t been dating anyone seriously.

I walked across the street and knocked on the door. Judy came to the door in a robe, which surprised me. She let me in and said that she was going out with the girls tonight and she was just getting in the shower. I offered to come back later and she said that it was all right and that she would start getting ready while I looked at her computer.

Judy pointed me to the second bedroom where the computer was and she went to the bathroom to shower. I fired up the computer and I found that Judy’s computer was infected with Spyware. While I was cleaning the Spyware off her computer, Judy called out and asked if I would bring in her new shampoo that she had just bought.

I grabbed the shampoo and opened the bathroom door very slowly; Judy’s shower curtain is very transparent. ateşli gaziantep escort bayan She was standing in the shower with her legs crossed and sideways covering her breast with her arm. I set the shampoo on the stool and backed out of the bathroom. As I closed the door I could see Judy in the mirror above the sink.

When I shut the door it didn’t latch and it reopened just a crack. I couldn’t resist taking a peak through the crack in the door. I watched her though the mirror washing her long dark hair, the whole time I could see her beautiful naked body.

I should have known it was too good to be true, Judy glanced into the mirror and made eye contact with me. I immediately pulled away from the door but it was too late. I quickly went back to the second bedroom to finish up so I could get out of there.

It seemed as soon as I got back to the desk I heard the shower water turn off. I was so embarrassed I didn’t want to be there. I thought about leaving but I would have to walk past the bathroom to get out of her house.

She didn’t come out of the bathroom right away, I could hear the medicine cabinet opening and closing. I could bakımlı gaziantep escort bayan hear the bathroom sink turn on and off. Then I could see the light in the hallway of the bathroom door opening. I just looked at the computer and said nothing.

Judy walked into the second bedroom and asked me “How is it going.”

I said, “Just about done” without looking at her.

Judy walked over behind me and asked me “Did you like what you saw?”

I said “yes” without removing my eyes from the computer screen.

Next a robe was dropped on the floor next to me and I felt the chair start turning around. There was Judy standing in front of me without a thing covering her body. Judy knelt down and started unbuckling my belt and pants. I was about to explode right there as she reached in to my pants to better grip on me.

Judy started licking and sucking me until I was able to tell time without a watch. As I looked down at her I couldn’t tell what was more exciting, looking at her gorgeous naked body or her licking my shaft until I was ready to explode.

Then she stopped and told me to stand up. She removed my shirt, then my shoes, gaziantep bayan escort and she finished with my jeans and underwear. Now we were even, neither of us had clothes on.

Judy led me over to a small couch she had in the room. She pulled me on top of her as her legs slipped apart. I slid inside her slowly, sliding in and out a little faster each time. I continued until I could hardly hold it any longer. I was ready to explode. I pulled out slowly giving her a kiss on the neck and slowly kissing down her chest. Further and further down I went kissing her until I got to neatly trimmed triangle. I started licking and probing with my tongue as her hips thrust into the air. Her moans became louder and louder, her breaths shorter and shorter. When I knew she was as close as I was to going over the edge, I slowly move back up and grabbed her hips and picked her bottom off the couch as I slid myself in slowly as she let out a loud moan. The rhythym picked up as I thrust deeper and deeper inside of her. Another loud moan as she tightened her legs around me, I exploded at the same time.

I almost collapsed right there on her. Sweat was dripping off of us and I could feel her heart beating very rapidly.

We got up from the couch when we had caught our breath. Judy put her robe on and started handing me my clothes. Judy said that she needed to finish getting ready and that she may shower again before she goes out. After I was dressed I headed for the door, she thanked me for all my help and all I could say is, “you’re welcome.”

I will never forget that evening again and I hope she calls me back for her next computer problem.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Lyn looked away from the sick green background of the computer monitor. Still, she could sense the face in the screen looking back at her; mocking her. It scorned her for turning 45, for staying married to a man she didn’t love, and for having a job she couldn’t stand.

The woman swiveled in her chair and was confronted by windows that reflected her short legs, lifeless hair and insignificant body. Had a more nondescript female ever been born?

She stood and detected a movement in the window. A man was walking past; a tall, younger man with a sure stride. She watched his reflection. It looked like Paul. But, of course, it couldn’t be Paul. Paul walked out of her life twenty years ago.

Or had he? Every young man with dark hair was Paul–the same man Lyn had met in the remote motel room when she was in her mid twenties in order to consummate their physical attraction towards each other. The same man who couldn’t complete the act.

He had blamed it on guilt. She suspected it was her undistinguished techniques. Both were half right. There were tears and embarrassment and anguish. No words were ever spoken.

Lyn’s life would be incomplete if she didn’t erase that awful fifteen minutes from two decades ago. But, of course, it would never be erased from her memory. She needed to erase its very existence by completing the act.

An old Carpenters song entered her mind:

The hardest thing I’ve ever done is keep believing
There’s someone in this crazy world for me.

Yeah, right. A married, middle-aged woman who looks more like Jim Carey than Mariah Carey. Lyn no more expected to be loved again than she expected to win the lottery.

She smoothed out her skirt and headed for the break room. She needed coffee.

The reality was this: Lyn was not an unappealing woman. Her short brunette hair was neatly cut and curled at the base of her neck. She had penetrating dark eyes and lips that begged to be kissed. Her figure was more than respectable, including shapely legs that lacked only the exaggerated length she was used to seeing on magazine covers.

In fact, when walking the local nature trail in the summer with shorts and a tank top on she was almost sexy. Almost.

Lyn’s biggest problem was Lyn. Her faith in relationships…and herself…walked out the door with Paul. She saw no need to make herself appealing.

The way that people come and go through temporary lives
My chance could come and I might never know.

On the opposite side of the office, Terry watched her enter the break room. He watched her ass sway under the skirt before Lyn disappeared around the corner.

Terry was a thirty-year-old accountant who would probably never rise above the supervisory level…and would be satisfied with that. Terry struggled through school. He struggled on dates. He would struggle through a career and retire.

“Go. Before she comes back out.”

The voice behind him was firm and sure. He turned to look at Sue, giving her the usual contemptuous sneer he gave her when he felt she was being a little too intrusive.

But she was right. He grabbed his coffee cup and headed quickly for the break room. He would deal with the cute, young meddler when he got back.

Lyn was seated at the undersized, square table in the middle of the room when Terry entered. They exchanged friendly greetings as Terry walked to the coffee maker. He added sugar to the cup and turned towards Lyn. Her legs were crossed under the table, exposing a good portion of her stocking covered thighs.

“Mind if I sit down?” the man asked.

“Of course not. How’s your day been, Terry?”

He lied. “Pretty good. How about you?”

The lying continued. “Good. We haven’t been real busy.” At least the latter statement was true.

“Us either,” Terry admitted. They paused to drink.

Lyn had always liked Terry and enjoyed watching him around Sue, the young addition to the accounting department. Sue was infinitely more outgoing than Terry and seemed to enjoy goading him into dating her girlfriends or other single women in the office. If Lyn was younger…and single…and prettier; well, she wasn’t any of those. But he WAS cute, she admitted.

“You look very nice today. Going somewhere after work?” Terry asked.

Lyn had to gather herself after the unaccustomed compliment.

“No. Not at all. And thank you.” She smiled at him sheepishly, nervously rearranging her legs under the table.

She felt the urge to change the topic. “So, how’s Sue been doing?”

“Oh, great,” Terry said cheerfully. “She’s gonna be great to have around.” He glanced at the door to make sure she hadn’t followed him. “She’s a lot of fun, but knows her stuff, too.”

“Still trying to set you up with dates?” Lyn asked.

“Of course.”

Lyn tried to put on her most innocent look. “Any luck?”

Terry laughed. “Hardly.”

Lyn was about to continue her questioning, but Terry added, “She has a lot of twenty-year-old friends.”

“So?” Lyn’s eyes widened.

“So, I’m beyond that. I want…, adıyaman escort bayan well, not want exactly…I like women older than that,” he finally managed to say.

“How old?” Lyn was getting into this now, enjoying the young man’s apparent discomfort.

Terry eyed her carefully. “I think a woman ten or fifteen years older than me would be interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Could teach me something.”

Lyn drank some more coffee and thought for a second. Where could she take this? Did she want to?

“Maybe an older woman would know better than to try to teach a young guy like you anything,” Lyn finally said.

“I hope not. Anyone who thinks I’ve done it all is in for a shock.”

Lyn couldn’t help but laugh at that one. She could see the insecurity on his face and decided to help him out.

“Ah, c’mon Terry. You’re a good-looking young man. Most older women would be very intimidated by you.”

Terry had walked, or been pushed, into the room as the “aggressor” and felt strangely defensively now.

“Intimidated? I doubt that. Would you?”

Lyn was afraid that was coming. She felt unsettled just sitting with him in the break room. Being alone with him would surely cause her to crumble.

“Uh, well, I think my days of thinking about young men are about over,” she said.

He stared at her intensely. “The question was: Would you be intimidated by a younger man? I think you said a good-looking younger man.” A small grin crossed his face.

It was Lyn’s turn to wonder how the conversation had made the sudden detour.

“Every woman has fantasies.” Lyn let the statement hang in the air like a cloud. She would have given anything for someone to enter the room and relieve the man of having to say anything.

Lyn looked into Terry’s brown eyes. Her body froze. Paul’s eyes were looking deep inside her. She was no longer in the room with a young accountant. Lyn and Paul were naked in a motel room. Her mouth was around his cock, feeling it grow. Then he was on top of her and inside of her.

Then…it was over. Without anything happening.

Lyn had given Paul lots of freedom. She never asked him to leave his wife for her. She always thought her actions alone could convince him what was right for them. Eventually, he said “goodbye” by walking out the door without saying a word. So much for freedom.

“Tell me your fantasies.”

Jesus. Terry blinked as he asked the question and Lyn was thrown out of the eyes she had fallen into.

“What?” Lyn could barely speak.

“Tell me your fantasies,” he repeated nonchalantly.

The woman desperately wanted to. She felt a compelling urge to. She opened her mouth…and the two were joined by a pair of coworkers arguing over the qualifications of competing Star Search contestants.

Lyn and Terry looked at each other in silence. Lyn rose from her seat.

“I have to get back. I’ll talk to you later, OK?” Lyn said.

If it was meant to be an invitation to continue the discussion, Terry accepted. “Sure.”

The man was left sitting alone, his heart racing. Lyn walked briskly back to her desk and threw herself into her chair. She scolded herself for even thinking about answering that asinine question. Yet, she knew she would. Eventually.

Terry rounded the corner of his cubicle and caught the upper half of Sue’s face looking over the wall.

“Shut up,” Terry blurted.

“What?” Sue used her most innocent of all voices. Terry couldn’t see her mouth, but he could tell from her eyes she was smiling.

The girl continued. “You two are going to hook up. I just know it.”

“She’s not my type,” said Terry.

“Bull. You want her.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” Terry asked.

The blonde head disappeared to the sound of giggles.

Lyn spent considerable time that night laying in bed thinking. She thought about Terry and his question…and her answers. She asked herself if she found him attractive. The answer was yes. She wondered how he’d be in bed. There was no answer to that one. Just fantasies.

Then she thought about her and Paul. Was she ready for something like that again?

The next day Lyn was back in the office, staring at her computer screen and watching people in the windows. Life went on.

Late in the afternoon she headed for the large, secluded room that housed the Xerox machine. Her print job was mammoth and, of course, the machine was being uncooperative. Not paying attention to the clock, she found herself watching the machine spit out pages well after the normal closing time.

Her mind was lost in the drone of the Xerox.

“Tell me your fantasies.”

The voice was real. And close. Lyn turned her head and saw Terry. He stood directly behind her, inches away.

“Oh. Hi,” the woman exclaimed. Her voice shook from the scare he had given her. Then she grasped the words that he had spoken.

For all her preparation since he first asked her for this information, she akkent escort bayan was unable to reply.

Terry placed his hands on her hips, looking down at the sheer white blouse and the black skirt. “You do have fantasies, don’t you?”

She could have screamed, or slapped him, or walked away. Instead, she continued watching the copier.

“I have fantasies of someone loving me very much,” she said quietly.

“And making love to you to prove it?”

“Yes.” She almost sighed the words.

Terry’s hands moved down the skirt. Just above the knees he reached the hem. His fingers slipped inside and touched her legs.

“Could this be a younger man? A younger man that needed to be taught some things by a wonderful, more experienced woman?”

Lyn smiled nervously. “You mean an older woman?”

“Well…,” Terry smiled with her. His hands moved up the inside of her skirt, feeling the hose on her smooth thighs. “I think I answered that yesterday. Today, we want to know what YOU want.”

Lyn thoroughly enjoyed playing word and mind games with this man. Could she do more?

“I’ve got everything I want.” Lyn tried to sound convincing, but even she didn’t believe the words.

“Hell. I don’t think so,” Terry answered firmly. “When was the last time you begged to have sex a second time with someone because you loved them that much and they were that good?”

“Terry!” Lyn said. She cried out not because she was offended by the question, but because a woman her age was SUPPOSED to be offended by the question. In this case, the pair of hands rising slowly up her legs, getting closer and closer to her moist cunt, prevailed.

She said, “Never.”

“I thought so. You have fantasies about a man you love making you cum until you scream for more.” Terry’s hands reached the top of her legs just as the words were spoken. His fingers felt her warmth through the pantyhose and panties.

Lyn broke the ensuing silence. “We’re in a room and we’re naked. He’s on top of me, licking and sucking my breasts while I stroke him. Finally, he enters me and I feel completely filled.”

Lyn stopped. A hand was rubbing her pussy and she scarcely noticed.

Her voice trembled. “He’s SO hard and long. I play with myself as he enters me again and again.”

Terry’s hand found her clit and rubbed it hard.

“I hear him groan and then I feel him…I feel him cum inside me. He’s pushing harder and faster. I come, too. It’s better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Terry moved his hand inside her pantyhose, inside her panties and down to her pussy. He rubbed her clit some more before inserting a finger into her dripping cunt. Lyn put her hands on the copier and felt Terry’s hard cock press against her ass.

Tears rolled down her face. She wants to cum, but she can’t. Not this time.

“Terry?” Lyn asked.

The man withdrew his hand slowly. “Yes?”

She paused. “Will you meet me here tomorrow after work?”

“Of course I will,” he said with reassurance.

“And will you make love to me?”

Terry used his hands to turn the woman around.

“Until you beg for more,” he said. His mouth closed around hers and they kissed passionately. Afterwards, Terry wiped the last of the teardrops from Lyn’s face.

“Now help me carry this back to my desk,” Lyn said as she turned back to the machine. She needed to get away from him. Until tomorrow.

Driving home, Lyn considered her options. Call in sick; tell Terry she’d made a mistake; or, wear her shortest skirt and thong panties. Why couldn’t things ever go right for her? Why couldn’t this be her husband expressing this much interest in her?

Lyn showed up the next morning in a short skirt and sleeveless silk blouse. By mid-afternoon she had received a half dozen compliments. She and Terry crossed paths a couple times during the day, but they didn’t talk.

Terry spent much of the day watching the clock. Sue invited him to lunch, which he accepted. This had the usual effect of making him horny, or in today’s case, hornier. For once, his mind was on something other than Sue’s perfect little body while they were together. By the end of the lunch hour he was beginning to prefer Lyn’s understated calmness. Maturity, he guessed, was a better word.

Between five and five-thirty the offices began to empty. Lights were switched off randomly throughout the floor–until Terry sat alone in his department and a glow radiated from the Xerox room.

The sound of the machine could faintly be heard. Not a soul was in sight. Terry stood from his chair and took a deep breath. The throbbing between his legs had already started.

This time, Lyn saw the young man as he stood at the door. She removed a batch of copies and let the machine continue. Then she looked at him once more and smiled.

“Nice outfit,” Terry said, taking a couple steps inside the room.

Lyn blushed. “Thanks. It’s not my…uh, usual attire.”

“Special occasion?”

Lyn watched him step closer, within gaziantep anal yapan escort bayan an arm’s length. He was very good-looking, she determined. Or was this an attempt to justify things? She knew, now, that her desire was indisputable.

“Yeah. Kind of.”

Terry put his hand on the back of her neck, under her hair. Then he ran his fingers along her shoulder to the top of her arm, the skin exposed by the sleeveless blouse. They stood facing each other. Their eyes locked.

The man lightly placed his hands on her waist and lifted her. Lyn’s eyes widened and she reached with her hands for the top of the copier. Just that quickly, she was on the machine.

She exhaled a nervous giggle, feeling the excitement flow through her body. Lyn watched as Terry turned and closed the door to the room, pushing in the lock on the handle at the same time.

Returning to the copier and Lyn, Terry slid his hands down her bare legs and slipped off her shoes, letting them fall to the floor. He pushed them aside with his own shoes and looked back at the legs dangling in front of him.

Terry’s hands touched the outside of Lyn’s knees, moving up until vanishing under her skirt. At first he suspected her of wearing no panties. His hands reached her waist before feeling the thin material of her thong.

By now, the little skirt was pushed up so that it barely covered her pussy. Lyn felt Terry’s fingers wrap around the thong and begin to pull. She lifted herself off the copier and the panties appeared from under the skirt.

He slid them down her legs and deposited them with her shoes. She wondered if he could see her shaking, because her entire body felt as if it were trembling. Lyn prayed she wouldn’t have to unbutton her blouse. She had a compelling urge to simply watch him take her.

For once, her prayers were answered. With her legs separated slightly, Terry moved forward and stood between them. Starting at the top, he worked his way down her blouse, opening it with ease. When he pulled it out of her skirt and undid the last button, it lay open, revealing a small, black bra.

The man’s hands were inside the blouse quickly. He felt the outside of her breasts, then moved his fingers to the nipples, which protruded under the soft material of the bra. Terry was pleased to see the front-opening clasp and unfastened it.

The bra opened, but lay across the bulk of the breasts, held in place partly by the erect nipples. Terry’s fingers released the bra and pushed it aside.

Lyn’s breasts were not the largest, not the fullest, not the firmest Terry had ever seen. But they were enticing and his hands felt their softness. It didn’t take long for his mouth to replace his hands. He licked and sucked until Lyn thought her nipples would explode. She felt the wetness between her legs increase and wished she could touch herself.

Lyn’s hand, instead, reached for and found Terry’s erection. Even through his pants she could feel the bulk of his cock. That caused the man to increase his attack on her breasts while, at the same time, lifting her skirt from under her ass.

Without saying a word, Terry unbuckled his belt, pulled down his zipper and let his pants fall to the floor in a heap. The bulge in his boxers excited Lyn. It was only a few seconds later that Terry had the cock out and the boxers at his feet.

Lyn wanted to put the large cock in her mouth, but she suspected that Terry had other plans for it. Her assumption proved correct when he put his hands at the base of her back and pulled her forward. She placed her hands behind her to steady herself and watched as the young man raised her skirt to her waist.

Her pussy waited anxiously for his touch. Lyn spread her legs wider apart and Terry inched forward. When his cock was within reach of her cunt, he put his hands under Lyn’s ass and raised her off the copier.

Terry’s cock twitched with anticipation. It pointed up to the ceiling, well above Lyn’s cunt.

“Put me inside you,” Terry said to Lyn.

She didn’t hesitate. Her hand eagerly touched him and positioned the cock at the entrance to her cunt. He lifted and pulled her toward him simultaneously. The tip of the cock disappeared inside Lyn.

A quick thrust and he was half inserted. Lyn moaned and rested her hands on the top of the copier once more. Another push and he was in deep enough to feel her thighs hit his legs.

Now he put the woman back down on the machine and leaned into her. Lyn leaned back.

“Relax and let me make you cum,” Terry said in a low voice.

Neither relaxing nor cumming seemed likely to Lyn. Her mind raced with memories and mixed feelings. It wasn’t until Terry began fucking her in earnest that she put herself back into the present.

Terry was driving into her with increased force. The sound of their skin hitting against each other could be heard above the whir of the copier. Occasional grunts and groans came from both participants.

Lyn thought back again. Would he slowly soften and fall from her, unfulfilled?

If she had let her mind concentrate on reality, she would have realized that this man was by no means dysfunctional. As Terry watched the woman’s breasts bounce with his thrusts, he came closer and closer to an orgasm. He lifted her by the ass again and found a better angle to enter her. Lyn cried out with pleasure as the hard cock slid across the inside of her vagina.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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All I can say is that it wasn’t intentional. I didn’t plan on doing anything with him… He just offered me a ride home. By no means am I a slut… I was in fact a virginal nineteen year old woman… Emphasis on “was”. I don’t regret it or anything… But I just wanted to set the record straight by saying that I didn’t plan it.

I work at a local coffee shop and that night I had a closing shift, working until midnight. I worked with lot of people my age, and some older ones as well. A few of the guys that I work with are kinda cute… Our manager is so hot. Every time that he walks by I have to make sure that my chin isn’t on the floor. I’m 5’5 with blond hair and green eyes, with an athletic build and nice perky 36c breasts. Our manager Ryan is just under six feet with dark hair and navy blue eyes. He doesn’t seem to have an ounce of extra fat on him. He has the kind of body that begs to be licked.

Ryan and I closed together, so he walked me to my car.

Ever since I had started working there Ryan and I had had a casual flirting relationship. Both of us loved to compliment each other, and on occasion, depending on our moods we would even proposition each other, but all of it was done in fun. I wrote all of our conversations off as the friends teasing friends kind of thing. After all what could a 29 year old man see in me that he couldn’t get from someone older. Right? I know, you’re probably saying to yourself that I was stupid that how could he not have been attracted to a beautiful young woman,, ripe for the picking. I just never considered that he felt that way about me. I thought that I was too young.

We said goodnight bayan escort gaziantep and I got into my car, but as I tried to start it, it wouldn’t turn over. I tried a few more times in vain before I decided that it wasn’t going to work, and that I would have to walk. I grabbed my purse and got out of the car, almost running right into Ryan who had been standing beside my door. He told me that he had heard my troubles and he offered me a ride home. Of course I said yes, both because I didn’t want to walk and because how could I say no to him…?

He drove a Porsche Boxter (family money) which was a nice small two-seater car. With the top up it rendered the interior comfy and intimate. I got in, and went to buckle up, but couldn’t find the seatbelt. Feeling a little stupid, I fumbled around for it, before Ryan came to my rescue. He leaned across me and pulled the seatbelt from its recessed position and pulled it across my chest and buckled it. As he had drawn the seatbelt across my chest, the back of his hand had brushed across my breasts and I couldn’t hide my quick inhalation. Ryan didn’t seem to notice. We drove out of the parking lot, and I gave him directions to my apartment. I watched him as he drove, fascinated by him, and how sexy he looked driving a standard… I loved guys that drove standard cars. The shifting, the power, I don’t know it just made me hot.

As we drove we made polite conversation. He asked me if I had a boyfriend, I told him no, I asked him if he had a girlfriend, he said no. When I asked if he might have a boyfriend, he laughed. He took his eyes from cim cif gaziantep escort bayan the road, gave me a head to toe look and told me that he was definitely a guy who liked women. I smiled.

He pulled up in front of my place and I thanked him for the ride. I undid the seatbelt and tried to open the door, but it was locked. Ryan gave a dry little laugh and told me that it automatically did that. Instead of using the console on his side to unlock the door, he reached across me again, and unlocked the door for me. This time, with deliberate attempt, his hand brushed against my breasts on the way there, ad for a longer moment on the way back. He gave my left breast a little squeeze before he pulled away, he told me that he had always been a breast man. I couldn’t help but be cheeky as I turned to him and asked if they met his approval. I expected him to laugh and tell me to go home, even though in the back of my mind I thought that he might do more. He reached over, with both hands and cupped my breasts, squeezing them, he told me that they were just more then a handful, just what he liked.

I didn’t move to remove his hands, and he wasn’t to quick to do it. While this was happening, my mind was racing. Was this all part of the game we played? Was it more then that now? While I was asking myself these questions I didn’t notice Ryan’s hands unbuttoning the buttons down the front of my shirt. In a matter of minutes he had unbuttoned my shirt entirely. The only thing keeping my breasts from sight was my demi-cup white lace bra. As his hands went to cover my breasts again, cinsel bilgiler I heard him tell me he liked the virginal look. His hands, slightly calloused hands, lightly rubbed against my exposed cleavage. My breathing was speeding up, and all I could think was that if he took his hands away, I was going to die. His hands were making to remove my bra when headlights illuminated the car’s interior. Ryan pulled away, muttering a few curses as he pulled the front of my shirt together, concealing what I had been offering him moments before from the passing motorists.

The spell was broken, and I was sad to see it go. I quickly rebuttoned my shirt, thanked him for the ride, and got out of the car before he could apologize, which I was sure he was going to do. I didn’t want him apologizing for anything. In fact all I had wanted him to do was to keep making me feel as good as he had been. I let myself into the building and up to my apartment. Once I had the front door closed and locked, I took a deep breath. I still wasn’t too sure what that whole thing in the car had meant, but I wasn’t going to be able to think about anything else for a long time.

I had just changed into pajamas, when the phone rang. It was Ryan, and he was downstairs. He told me that I had left my jacket in his car, and he wanted to bring it up. I figured he wanted to apologize as well, but I let him up anyway, I had put my car keys in my coat pocket. I buzzed him into the building and waited for the knock.

In moments Ryan knocked and I opened the door. It took a moment to register that Ryan was staring at me, that’s when I remembered my pj’s. A white cotton nightgown that unconsciously screamed virgin. He groaned as if in pain, threw my jacket into my apartment, stepped through the door, slammed it shut after him, and pulled me into his arms, all in a matter of seconds. As his mouth crashed down on mine all I was thinking was that I hoped whatever he had in mind would take longer then it took him to get into my apartment…

To Be Continued…

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

If I tried to describe myself to someone I’d say that I am an athletic, well-built, 44 year old man, with a reasonable amount of intelligence. I am average in the looks department; I’m no male model, but I believe I still attract attention from the female species. I have been married once but my wife died when she was only 28. It was a car accident. I was in a terrible state after her death, but since then I’m just grateful that she didn’t die from some dreadful disease like others who have died young. We didn’t have any kids and I have remained single since that time. This status has been by choice; I enjoy my own company as well as female company – whenever the occasion presents itself. I seem to get on great with people in general, but I get on better with people that are older than me, especially older women.

An unusual idea came to me not long after I’d paid a visit to my friend Ken’s Liquor Store. I’ll explain more about that idea later in this story, but I’ll tell you about Ken first. He’s not only the store owner, he also manages the place. Ken is married, loves his wife to bits, and he likes his “extra-curricular activities” (E.C.A.’s) more than anyone else I know.

I was at Ken’s store a couple of days ago. We were talking about business in general and ‘quality-control’ testing some of his stock. It was just after 5.00pm and as a number of the local businesses began to close for the day the liquor store got busier. Ken excused himself for a few minutes and went out to help the two staff running the check-outs. Twenty minutes later and the ‘rush-hour’ began to slow down again. He left the staff to look after the store and returned to the back-room to continue our conversation.

According to Ken, most of his E.C.A.’s seem to be older women, “You know Dave, I just can’t get enough of them. I don’t know what it is but they really seem to think that this time is going to be their last… and my God, they go for it like bunny rabbits on a warm day in Watership Down. I definitely wouldn’t choose a twenty something over a fifty or sixty something after some of the experiences I’ve had in the last couple of years in this very room.”

Looking at his watch, Ken said, “Give it about another twenty to thirty minutes and you’ll see what I’m saying.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s Tuesday. At about 5.45, a woman you may have seen at the post office in town will be in here to join me for a quiet drink. She’s a friend”. With this Ken began to stick one of his fingers in his mouth, right up to the second, then he went to the third knuckle, almost choking himself in the process. He rolled it around, covering it in saliva, and then moved it in and out as though he was loosening up a very tight pussy. “When I say ‘friend’ Dave, I mean… this woman gives the best blow-jobs I have ever had in my life, I kid you not – I have had my fair share of good blow-jobs, but these are something else. What makes it interesting is that she is at least 57 and she’s single… again. Husband died two years ago. Gorgeous piece of ass like you will not believe!”

I couldn’t remember the woman he was talking about, but if she was going to be here in the next half hour I would probably have my chance to see her in person. I was certainly interested to see this maestro of the blow-job.

“When she arrives,” Ken said, “stay for a polite amount of time – say five or ten minutes, make conversation as though you have no idea what is going to happen, then shoot through at the same time the two staff out there close up the store at 6.00pm. Tuesday is the earliest closing day of the week, so I’ve arranged ‘a stocktake’ as far as my wife is concerned. When you go out the front door, go around the side and come in through this entrance here, behind these boxes.” He said this while pointing toward a stack of cardboard boxes up against the outside wall of the room. “You’ll see what I’m on about from there. You’ll have a better view there than you get from the best seat at the movies.” Ken took a big sigh and said, “Dave you will not go back to the younger ones after you’ve seen this mate!”

I have to admit, I couldn’t wait for this little spectacle to begin. I was getting horny just thinking about it. My lust for older women was unknown to Ken, but he obviously felt the same way.

Where Ken suggested I take up my vantage point would definitely allow me a clear view into the ‘back-room’ as he called it. This part of the store was almost in darkness so there’s no way I would be seen by anyone inside the room. The cardboard boxes were adjacent to a reinforced steel roller-door where deliveries were made during the day. A small door, which would not have been out of place in Fort Knox, was to the left of this and Ken explained that he would leave it open for my entry and the roller door would be shut and bolted. All I had to do was re-lock the door after I’d made entry. After the show was over and the woman had gone on her way, Ken would then let me out so there would be no alarms antep escort bayan going off and cops crawling all over the place.

The ‘room’ that Ken referred to was in fact his office. It was a sizeable room, with a desk in one corner, on the same wall as the door leading into the place. The desk was complete with computer, scanner and printer, and a chest of drawers sat next to this with a fax machine and a coffee machine competing for space on top. Against the opposite wall there was a leather sofa, and to either side of this there were matching leather arm chairs, a coffee table lay in-between. The fourth wall had a trestle-table that doubled as a ‘boardroom’ table and a place where Ken could spread out his paper-work. The windows above the table were the ones I would be able see through, but nobody would be able to see me.

As my mind was trying to take in what we’d arranged, there was a shout from one of the staff, “Ken, the woman from the post office is here… are you buying stamps after hours again?” I don’t think Ken’s secret was as secret as he thought. I hoped that the woman hadn’t heard the remark.

Ken yelled, “OK, I’ll be there in a sec.” He looked at me and said, “Everything understood?”

“Yes, no worries.”

Moments later Ken left to greet his visitor. He soon reappeared with Brenda.

Brenda was a well dressed woman who appeared to be only an inch or two shorter than Ken, and he was at least 5’10”. She didn’t have higher than normal heels on her shoes so she was only a fraction taller than she would be in bare feet.

After Ken made the introductions and offered us drinks he went out into the store to help with the closing up process.

Brenda seemed really friendly toward me and explained that she was the Manager at the post office branch about a mile up the road from Ken’s store. She said she had worked at the post office for several years, and in fact had only started there full time after her husband died. “I met Ken a few months ago when I came into his store for some sherry, of all things, to add to a recipe I was making for dinner. We have been friends ever since. I often call in for a hello and a quick drink on my way home from work on Tuesdays. He told me it was his easiest work day, so I don’t think I’m intruding too much if I stick to only that day of the week.” She smiled innocently, but I couldn’t help wondering what she would say if she knew that I was fully aware of her E.C.A.’s with Ken?

Her hair was salt and pepper, with auburn being the predominant colour. I thought that the grey flecks made it look better than just auburn by itself. It was cut quite short and framed a face that I immediately thought of as beautiful. I would not have known she was 57 if I hadn’t been told prior to our meeting. She looked to be about my own age, maybe even less. Her figure was obviously obtained from hard work, maybe aerobics or some other gym discipline. She certainly wasn’t built the way she was from only sitting behind a desk. This woman reinforced all of the reasons why I like older women so much. Within minutes I was talking to her like we had been friends for years.

Ken came back in just after 6.00 and asked if he could top up our drinks before he officially shut down the store to the public. As this was my cue to get scarce I said, “No thanks Ken, I’m off. I have to be at dinner at a friends place by 7.00.” I said my goodbyes and Ken showed me out through the store front. With a nod of the head, and a quick wink to Ken, I went around the side of the store and in through the small door in the back wall of the building. I quietly locked the door and made my way to my selected spot behind the boxes just as Ken was coming back through the darkened interior of the store. The lights were still on in the back room, so I was able to see the inside as though it were a stage set.

Ken is the same age as me; in fact we went to the same schools as we were growing up. He has managed to get himself a bit of a paunch since then – probably from working in the liquor industry, but in general terms he still looks OK.

As he came into the room he smiled at Brenda, reached for his drink from the coffee table and sat in one of the armchairs. She was sitting on the sofa opposite; she re-crossed her legs to get more comfortable, and then said, “Your friend Dave seems like a nice guy Ken?”

“Yes, he’s a great guy; he’s been a friend since we started school together at the age of five. We went right through the whole education thing, all the way to doing the same business degree at university.”

“Is he married?”

Ken smiled and said, “No he’s not; why do you fancy him Brenda?”

“Well he does seem like a person that I’d like to meet again, and as the liaison that we have is purely sexual, we can’t exactly call it a love affair can we?”

Apart from being able to see the room as well as a TV screen in my home, I could also hear every word as clear as a araban escort bayan bell. The conversation didn’t seem to be going the way that Ken had planned, and he seemed to have completely forgotten that I was there.

There was a petulant note in his voice as Ken said, “You don’t seem to complain about your bit-on-the-side with me every Tuesday Brenda?”

“No, that’s true. I missed sex so much after my husband died that I was pleased when we struck up this once a week thing. It’s uncomplicated and at least I get to ‘blow-off-some-steam once in a while, so to speak.” She smiled again, and then laughed a little at the pun. Ken couldn’t help but smile back. He knew that there was no way he was going to maintain what he had with Brenda, she wanted more than just a sordid little affair in a back room of a liquor store. However, if it was going to end he would attempt to get his final blow job and call it a day.

“We seem to have come to a crossroads, don’t we?”

“Yes we have,” she said. “I wanted to call in one last time and say goodbye Ken. You have been kind to me so I thought that I’d be kind to you, one more time.” With this, she got up from the sofa and walked the few paces to where Ken was sitting; she knelt before him, in between his legs. She took his drink from his hand and laid it on the coffee table. I looked on and felt a stirring in my groin.

Her experienced hands reached over and unfastened the belt holding up Ken’s pants. The buttons and zipper were next, then with one fluid movement she pulled them over his hips and down past his knees. The pants continued the rest of the way to his ankles, and finally lay against the rug on the floor. Brenda reached forward again and pulled the waistband of Ken’s boxers outwards. She pulled them out further than normal so she could avoid snagging them on his erection. They quickly joined his pants around his ankles.

It seemed strange to be watching this live show with Ken and Brenda as the stars. It was the first time that I had ever done anything like this in my life. Despite my slight embarrassment I was fascinated. What made the situation embarrassing for me was actually seeing Ken’s erection. I had seen him in the showers in the past, but really not taken any notice. He was just one of my friends having a shower on those occasions. Nine times out of ten his cock was flaccid when he was in the shower anyway. This time his cock was rigid. What really surprised me was that it was so small in comparison to my own. It was not all that much bigger when it was rigid than it was when it was flaccid. Even as I thought this, I couldn’t help but feel a bit strange about comparing size. Ken’s cock, even bloated as it was with all the veins sticking out, it was probably only five inches long. What was impressive was when Brenda bowed her head and in one swoop she took the whole of Ken’s shaft into her mouth in one movement. There was no gagging, there was no hesitation, and it just went in right up to the point where his balls were resting against her chin. Ken simply made a loud groaning noise and his eyes shut… a look of ecstasy on his face.

Brenda was certainly a maestro in the art of blow jobs. For the next few minutes her head bobbed up and down with Ken’s complete cock disappearing and re-appearing from her lips. Saliva was dripping down the shaft, making the pubic hair shine around the base of his cock. I thought “that’s probably as shiny as the clear fluid that must be seeping from the eye of my own cock right now”. The enormous tent in the front of my pants was testimony to the fact that I was now fully aroused. The wet patch showing to the left of my zipper reminded me just how excited I was getting watching this ‘play’.

Brenda’s head was now moving up and down like a piston. She obviously had a remarkable way of being able to open up her throat and take in whatever was being put down there. With her hair being short, it didn’t even move out of place as she continued to make Ken’s day. His eyes remained shut and I could tell that he was not going to last too much longer. This was one very talented woman at work here.

Ken blew his gasket moments later. There was an “Oh fuck, I’m going to blow…” and that was basically that. He did. His arms splayed out over the arms of the chair. He seemed to sink into the base as his legs rose slightly, then his little cock ‘plopped’ out of Brenda’s mouth. It was going soft as he pushed up with his arms and straightened himself out. The whole procedure had only taken maybe three and a half minutes at most. Ken was now blowing like an athlete after a hundred yard dash, “Jesus Brenda, you do that like nobody else I know.” He lit a cigarette and reached for his drink.

Brenda smiled and got up from her knees. She took a silk handkerchief from her pocket, and wiped a spot from her chin. She brushed out imaginary wrinkles and creasing from her expensive suit and said, “I know Ken, and I do lots gaziantep arap escort bayan of other things that we haven’t tried even better.”

Completely oblivious to the significance of this remark Ken said, “I hope we can remain friends Brenda, even though we won’t be keeping our Tuesdays free for one another?”

“Of course we can. I might even come in for more sherry if I have a decent recipe.”

I knew that the show was over, so I remained quiet while Ken quickly replaced his boxers and his pants. He fastened his belt then walked out, in front of Brenda, through the darkened store to the front door. My cock was calming down, but a brief thought of what this woman would be like in full flight made it twitch one more time before it curled up beside my thigh.

+++++

Ken quickly returned to his office with a smile on his face like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Well, what did you think of that Dave? Was that good or was that good?”

“Ken I am suitably impressed. You definitely picked a maestro in the art of fellatio.”

“I did what?”

“You found someone who can give marvelous blow-jobs Ken.”

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Ken was grinning from ear to ear.

“Did she / you ever do anything else?”

“No, we only had an hour or so on Tuesdays and I was so taken with her blow jobs that I never got around to doing much else. I’d just give her a couple of drinks, maybe Brandy and Dry or something, then we’d get right into it… me finishing up blowing a head gasket right on time every time.”

“Good grief,” I thought. “Ken you’re a bloody moron!” I began to wonder just how frustrated Brenda really was after this idiot doing what he’d been doing for the last few months. She had probably not been really satisfied for at least a couple of years. How the hell do I meet her?

Ken’s final remarks as he let me out of the back door, “Just stick with your bro’ Dave, I’ll show you how to land ‘em.” I heard the bolt slam home and went around the side of the building to my car. My brain was zooming around at a hundred miles and hour like a hard drive that was about to fly to pieces.

++++++

The following day the idea came to me in the form of a brainwave, this is the idea I referred to earlier in the story. My inspiration was in the form of: “Why not seek out women like Brenda who have no ties, they are intelligent people and are still genuinely interested in sex without full time commitment… unless the situation changes on a mutual basis?”

My thoughts went on. “There must be women, especially older women, who are interested in men for sex without all the standard strings attached. Younger people seem to think they have this situation completely under control… but I was not after promiscuous sex where my main concern was the high likelihood of STD’s or worse.
I was thinking more along the lines of: There are women out there who do not have a husband or a regular partner and they just want to have sex with someone who will treat them as an equal and enjoy their body and their mind. There just have to be some of them out there; but how do I go about reaching them?”

With these thoughts firing about like skyrockets going off in my head I decided that I would advertise in several of the local papers. I didn’t want to go national or anything stupid like that, I was certain that there were local women who might fit the bill. If this was not the case, then I would consider widening the net. Some of the ‘Freebie’ newspapers were now getting large readerships, so I would initially use these; people seemed to enjoy reading the advertorial style of writing and presentation, so maybe the intelligent females, with some spare time of their hands, would be potential readers – and ‘customers’ for my project? Who knows?

There was never going to be any question of money, or taking on the role of a gigolo, this adventure was purely and simply to see if there were older women within a reasonable drive from where I live who were interested in what I was also interested in. I was after – uncluttered, uninhibited, no-ties sexcapades, the more often and more vigorous, the better.

There had to be some guidelines, I was not after a Quasimodo look-alike who was celebrating her 90th birthday next week, so I sat down that evening and began to consider some of the items for my ‘ideal woman specification’:-

Looks? A photograph? What Age? When? Where? How were initial communications to be arranged? Her place? My place? Motel / Hotel? Dinner? Lunch? eMail? Phone numbers?

After mind-mapping these ideas, and many more, I had the basics for the advert content. I spent the rest of the evening writing and re-writing the ad’. Finally I was satisfied with my effort. It was polite. It was non-threatening. It was disciplined in its approach; with just a hint of what could be available to share with the right person. The replies could be sent, together with photographs, to an anonymous post office box that I had set up for the project. I had sent the ad’ to four of the local ‘freebie’ newspapers and I requested that it was run for the next four weeks. The circulation for the newspapers I chose was in the several tens of thousands, so by the law of averages and marketing statistics a couple of replies were not too unrealistic an expectation… was it?

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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There’s one in every class, he thought, writing the latest assignment on the board, his back turned to Danielle, who he knew was sitting there twirling her hair while her peers frantically scribbled down his complicated instructions.

He turned and said, “For a few of you, this is really your last chance. If I see a marked improvement then I’ll cut you some slack when it comes to grading.” He sighed. “I’ve got your exams from last week.”

He walked up and down the aisles handing out the exams. He glared at Danielle when he handed her exam back with a big red F scrawled over the top. She shrugged.

The final bell of the day rang. He excused the class and walked down the hall to the department offices. He had his own office in the corner, so he shut himself inside and rubbed his temples. He wasn’t sure what to do about Danielle. She seemed as though she wanted to fail, and at every turn she mocked him. She shirked responsibility, she never studied. And yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to fail her. He thought she was beautiful, with a soft face, big green eyes, a young body. She dressed promiscuously sometimes, but her clothes were sometimes subtle, too. He could sometimes see the curve of her breasts above the top of her shirt, or her belly button peeking out above her jeans, or a skirt showing off her long legs. She dressed to be looked at, that he knew.

It bothered him that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He knew she wouldn’t bother to do this latest assignment. He really should fail her. He flipped open his grade book to do just that when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he shouted.

And there she was. Today she was wearing a big flannel shirt over a strappy tank top that danced across her breasts and a teeny black skirt.

“I, uh, wanted to talk about my grade.”

“All right,” he said. He gestured for her to come in. “Have a seat. Let’s talk.”

“Mind if a close the door?” she asked.

“That’s fine,” he replied.

She closed the door behind her but didn’t sit down.

“Is there anything I can do to keep from failing?” She looked at him with a pout on her lips.

“You can do the new assignment. I’ll count it as fifty percent of your grade. If you do it well, I can give you a C.” He tried to sound stern, but his resolve was shaky. He thought even her shoes—high heeled sandals that showed off toes painted blue—were incredibly sexy. He smelled her perfume, the same one an ex-girlfriend wore, and he felt his cock stir against his will. He crossed his legs.

“See, I don’t know if a C is good enough, you know? Yours is the only class I’m failing, and the grad school I got accepted to? They might take back their acceptance if I fail a class.”

“All you have to do is finish the work,” he said. “There’s not much I can do for you if you don’t bother to put the effort in.”

She nodded, paced across the office. “A C would bring down my whole average,” she said.

“Do you act this way for your other classes?”

“Well,” she said. “None of my other teachers are like you. I kind of enjoy sitting in your class. The others I do what I have to, you know?”

“That doesn’t make any sense. If you like my class, why don’t you Antalya travesti do the work? Why do you do the work for classes you don’t like as much?”

“So we can have this extra time together,” she said plainly. “Extra help and all that.”

“I wish you’d sit down,” he said, starting to get nervous. He didn’t want her to see his erection, which would continue to grow if she didn’t stop pacing. From his seat, he was at eye-level with her lovely belly.

“I think we can work something out,” she said, and she leaned over him, putting a hand on either armrest of his chair.

“I… well…” He could see down her shirt, two perfectly formed breasts, round and firm, held in by a pink bra.

“I know how to raise my grade,” she said. He felt her breath on his face.

She felt his tie with one hand, running her fingers down it. Her hand traveled from the tie directly to his pants. She ran her hand over the zipper, feeling the bulge. He sucked in his breath.

“If this is inappropriate,” she said with a smirk, “then tell me to stop.”

“I…”

“You can’t, can you? I see you watching me in class.”

She knelt before him. He watched her manicured fingers go to work, undoing his belt buckle, slowly unzipping his pants, sliding inside. She felt his underwear—boring grey cotton boxers—and felt the growing erection underneath. His cock was eager with anticipation.

In one smooth gesture, she got the cock out from the pants and the underwear, looked at it for a moment, began to stroke it. He let a groan escape his lips.

“Is this all right, Mr. Peterson?” she asked.

He could only nod in response. He was filled with a mixture of deep pleasure and remorse. He knew this was inappropriate, but his dick was thinking for him, wanting only to be enveloped by this girl’s mouth.

Which happened a moment later. She stroked his cock until it was fully hard and then lowered her pretty lips to it, first kissing the tip, then slowly covering it. She licked him and stroked him then swallowed him. He felt the back of her throat contract. He felt the wet warmness of her mouth, felt her tongue dance up the base of his cock, felt himself sweating.

She was good, skilled, knew how hard to stroke and alternately suck and kiss and lick. He put a hand on the back of her head to guide her, but soon grabbed a clump of her hair with some measure of violence because if he didn’t grab onto something, he knew he’d have to cry out. She bobbed up and down on his penis, sucking on it. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed, felt the impending orgasm.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned her.

“Please do,” she said around his penis.

And he came, shooting spurts of hot cum into her waiting mouth. When he was done, she stood up and licked her lips. He sat back in the chair panting.

“So what can you do for me?” she asked.

“Definitely a C,” he managed to say.

“A C? You can do better.”

“Danielle, you’ve failed every exam, you’ve only handed in half of the papers…”

The flannel shirt fell to the floor. She kicked it out of the way then took a step back. She touched her breasts, gently at first, then she grabbed them. She squeezed the nipples İstanbul travesti through the cloth of her bra and the tank top. She sneered at him. She slid the tank top off over her head and tossed it at him. It landed on top of his limp penis, which was still exposed.

“An A, Mr. Peterson. I need an A.”

“What are you willing to do?” he asked.

She unbuttoned her skirt and slid it down her legs. She was wearing yellow panties with pink stars, which struck him as juvenile.

“This violates every student-teacher rule in the book,” he pointed out.

“I’m willing to do anything,” she said. “And I won’t tell a soul if you won’t.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he said. “It’s just wrong. I’ll see what I can do about this grade…” He started to turn back to his grade book, but she walked over and put a hand over it to stop him.

“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Peterson. I like your class because I like you. You are smart and handsome. More than handsome. You’re sexy, brooding, just the kind of man I like. I’ve wanted you from the first day of class. I fantasize about you. And I always get what I want.”

“Well, I…”

“You think about me, too. I know you do. It’s not about the grade anymore.”

She grabbed his chin and lifted it so that he was looking at her. She reached around her back and unclipped the bra, letting her breasts go free. They bobbed a little. They were round and firm with erect nipples. It was everything he could do not to reach out and touch them.

“Oh, I want you,” she said with clenched teeth, as she felt her naked breasts, letting her fingers drift over them, touching her nipples, touching the curves. He felt his dick come back to life under the tank top.

“Do you sit in here or at home, Mr. Peterson, and fantasize about me? Do you jack off wondering what this body would be like under the clothes?” She walked over to him and leaned over him again, conspicuously placing her breasts in front of his face.

“Sometimes I do, yes,” he said. “I think about you.”

“Stroke your cock for me now like you do when you think about me.”

He complied, stroking it loosely, feeling it get hard again.

She got down in his face, her lips only an inch from his, and she said, “Do you want me right now, Mr. Peterson?”

“Oh, I want you,” he said, thinking only with his desires, not with his logical head. He knew he’d be in for a world of trouble if someone were to walk in, but based on the silence, no one was around anyway.

“I want you too,” she said, and she kissed him gently, sucking on his lips. He continued to stroke his penis with one hand and his other finally indulged in her body, touching one of her breasts, feeling the smooth, soft skin, touching the hard nipple. He groaned.

She straddled him, loosening his tie, throwing it on the ground. He went to work sucking on her nipples while she unbuttoned his shirt, and her fingers slipped underneath, feeling his toned chest and arms. She slid the shirt off and the tee-shirt underneath, too, and she touched his bare chest, amazed by its tautness.

He kissed her hungrily then, biting her lip. She sighed, then broke the kiss, sat up and called İzmir travesti out. She felt his now hard cock pushing against her panties. She rode it briefly, letting it get harder, letting the tip poke at her vagina. She felt she couldn’t wait much longer.

She stood and backed up. She slid her panties down her legs, stepped out of them. He stood, too, and let his unbuttoned pants fall to the ground. She made the brave move of pulling his boxers down, too, and making his feet move so that he stepped out of his pants and was naked before her, cock bouncing high. He grabbed her waist, kissed her, rubbed his penis against her smooth body. She gasped.

He pushed her body down so that her chest was laying parallel with the top of his desk. He parted her legs from behind, stuck in an exploratory finger. She was wet and waiting.

“Oh, God, take me already,” she said.

And he did, thrusting his cock into her with one strong motion. He stayed there for a moment, indulging in the sensation, the warm softness within. It felt amazing.

“Please,” she begged.

He began thrusting in and out, picking up speed as he went, encouraged by her yelps and groans to keep going. Having already come, he knew he could make this last a while. He pounded her as she begged for more, going in and out rapidly, getting lost in the sensations of her young pussy against his hard cock. He wanted to see more of her, though. He wanted to feel those breasts again.

He pulled out, and she stood up, turning her head to look at him questioningly.

“Oh, don’t stop,” she said.

“I’ve only just begun.”

He motioned for her to lay on the desk, so she did, sitting up partially, separating her legs as wide as they’d go. He entered her again, and she looked down and watched as his cock slid in and out of her. He put his hands out and felt those perfect breasts.

“Oh!” she cried. Then she began to sigh and moan until finally she came spectacularly. He felt the walls of her vagina contract, squeezing his cock. He was inspired to push harder, and continued to pound her. She was whimpering for him to keep going, and almost immediately, she came again, her whole body convulsing. He slowed a little to let her catch her breath, but didn’t disengage.

“Oh, Mr. Peterson,” she said, putting her arms around him. He was still inside her, and his cock was eager for more, so he moved in and out of her slowly while holding her in his arms. She kissed his neck, moved her hips in rhythm with him. She pushed him gently, and he pulled out, fell back into his chair. Panting, she got on top of him, and started riding him in the chair, pumping up and down quickly. “I’m gonna come again,” she said, and then did so.

She stood up, not knowing what to do next. He was still hard, his penis pointing to the sky. His hand traveled there, and he stroked it. He wanted more.

She got down on the floor, laying there, her knees pointed towards the sky. He joined her there, lowered himself over her, and slipped inside her again, kissing her passionately. He began to pump inside her again, then he felt the build up in his balls. He cried out.

“Come inside me,” she said, grabbing his ass to keep him in place.

And he came strongly. The pulsing of his penis made her come again, too, and they cried out together on the floor of his office and collapsed in a sweaty heap.

“That definitely deserves an A?” she asked.

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll let you know,” he said.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

76 yr old GILF seals another deal for hubby with thug black rap star.

DARCELL

One other time I helped my husband secure a lucrative contract was with an up-and-coming rap artist. His name was Darcell Roberts, but went by the name of ‘The BIG Hook.’ My husband was not fond of rap artists, because he has prejudice towards minorities, largely people of color. Although I have never been with a black male before and do not have any black friends, I have never been prejudiced towards any race.

In spite of my husbands prejudice towards blacks and rap artists, he knew that signing Darcell Roberts would result in making millions of dollars.

I learned from my husband, that Darcell had just turned eighteen. I also learned things that were shocking, to the point where I questioned him as to why he would want to sign a person with such a troubled past. Of course I knew it was all about the millions he would make on the back of this rap artist.

My husband told me that as a teenager Darcell had already been to prison six times. His crimes included robbery, stabbing a police officer, and once for shooting someone during a robbery at a liquor store. Fortunately, the owner survived, and because Darcell was a minor he was released after six months.

He went on to tell me that Darcell had even been shot five times during a gang-related incident. My eyes perked-up when my husband said that he had fathered eighteen children from eighteen different females, and that he was paying hefty child support for each. This was another reason my husband was hoping Darcell would sign with his company.

One day, while waiting in my husband’s office, for him to come back from the airport, I met the young rap artist. When Darcell came in the office I was standing at my husbands desk. The instant he entered my husbands office I instantly felt the room turn icy-cold.

What caught my eye was him being very short, standing at 5 feet 3 inches and that his skin was black as coal. Even though extremely short in stature, there was a criminal presence about him that suggested this was a person you did not want to cross.

My being unsettled also had to do with his appearance. He wore a tight, black, mesh headband that I learned was called a Durag. He had these ominous gold teeth that I also learned was called a ‘Grill.’ His pants were literally hanging down by a big diamond belt- buckle above his knee. This was something called ‘sagging.’

Standing in my high heels I towered over the pitch-black rap artist. Even though he was short I instantly felt a presence about him that demanded respect, especially if a person knew what was good for them. From what I could see in his tight fitting sleeveless T-shirt he was very muscular. His gold teeth added to his foreboding character. As I stood at my husbands desk the young, black rap artist looked me up and down with hunger in his eyes. His blatant glaring at me was deliberate. As he scanned my body from my high heels, up my long legs and to my heavy 34G breasts he had a sly grin on his face.

After what seemed like time stood still as he gaped over every inch of my body, he grinned and said, “Fuck, you is real fuckin fine.”

I felt a sudden chill rush over me, but at the same instant felt my inch-long nipples strain through my sheer bra and white blouse.

This caused him to grin knowingly.

“You turnin on already baby,” he said as he licked his lips deliberately.

As he said it he rubbed the center of his baggy-pants. My eyes opened-wide as I saw a menacing object running down to his knee then curved dramatically to the left side. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.

As I gazed at the sight like a frozen deer he said, in a cold voice, “Yeah baby, this be why I’m called The Big Hook.”

As my eyes were riveted to disbelieving curved shape that filled his baggy pants I stammered, “Yes, I can see why.”

He came in with papers that my husband had given him to sign. He did not seem very happy, but his eyes continued to roam over me ravenously.

“I’m Abe’s wife, Virginia Wechsler,” I said in a voice that had nervousness in it.

“Wife?” he said questionably.

“Yes,” I stammered.

“Shit,” he sounded incredulous. “I’ve seen you in the pics on the old fucks desk. He pointed, then said, “but figured you for his niece or daughter even,” he said as his eyes lingered on my breasts and huge nipples.

That day I wore a tight pencil skirt that went to mid-thigh. A pair of sheer, tan thigh high stockings to accent my long, shapely legs and a pair of black high heel pumps to give my long legs a nice tapper. My white blouse was transparent and my bra was so sheer you could see the outline of my long nipples and wide areola from across the room.

He then brazenly said, “You is fuckin real hot.”

I smiled then politely thanked him. At that point I didn’t want to encourage him. His presence alone still had me very feeling uneasy.

“Fuck. You’re sexy as fuck,” he said as he continued to look over my body with Ankara travesti deep hunger.

I bit my lower lip for a second as I felt my body come alive.

“Thank you,” I said in a throaty voice that gave away my being excited.

“Fuckin killer body.” “Can’t believe something as hot-assed as you belongs to that old fuck,” he said with revulsion in his voice.

As I watched him taking in the sight of my body my eyes lingered on the big imprint in his baggy pants, especially the enormous curve that shot-out past his left knee.

As I watched his eyes run up and down my body meticulously I was beginning to thoroughly relish his attention. I knew all the stories about him being arrested for murder and having so many children and the reputation for being a thug, but I didn’t feel anything except sexy.

“Yeah baby, you fuckin know that body of yours is fuckin real hot. Don’t cha baby?” he said in a hungry voice that had me tingling all over.

I grinned at him slyly and said in a deep, throaty voice that had lust in it, “I do hear it a lot.”

“Fuck bitch I knew it,” he said with a sly smirk.

I was accustomed to this, from my years as a model and the way my cloths fitted in a very reveling way, which highlighted my inch-long nipples, my 34G tits and my long legs. What caught me off guard was when, Darcell went to my husband’s desk and put the papers down, and wrote something on a piece of stationary that had my husband’s name on it.

He said, as he looked me over intently, “Here’s my number, bitch. I know that old, prejudice fuck of a husband leaves tomorrow for four weeks. You want the ‘Big Hook’ to come over and take care of business while that old fuck be outa town, you give me a call.” He then added in a assertive tone, “I’ll take care of that smoking body of yours.”

With that he handed me the paper and walked out. I was stunned, to say the least, but was incredibly turned on.

When my husband came back to his office I told him how Darcell came onto me and that he made it known that he wanted me.

It was just what my husband (and I) wanted to hear. What Darcell might have thought was pure coincidence, with me being at my husbands office, was actually something my husband and I planned. My husband had hoped that once the young rap star saw me dressed the way I was, he would immediately make a play for me, which was exactly what had happened.

“I want that black delinquent’s signature on this contract,” my husband said waving it in his hand. “Do you think you could get it for me darling?” he asked with a sly grin, knowing that I most certainly could.

“Oh I’m positive I can my love,” I responded in a throaty voice as I imagined the young, thug rap star and I in bed while my husband was away.

On the drive back to our penthouse my husband and I talked about getting the rap star to sign the contract. I told my husband that I had a plan which I knew wouldn’t fail.

I then took out the paper Darcell had given me with his number on it and dialed the number.

“Yeah?” was all a voice said in a voice that sounded perturbed.

“Darcell?” I said in a questioning voice, because I wasn’t accustomed to a person answering that way.

“Yeah,” he said with growing irritation in his voice.

“This is Virginia Wechsler,” I said in a throaty voice.

“Hey baby,” he said in a voice that now had a hint of excitement in it.

Suddenly, I heard a female voice say, “fuck, your cock is so fucking huge baby.”

“Oh my, Im sorry,” “if this a bad time I can call you back,” I said apologetically as my mind was imagining the big-hooked cock she was looking at.

“No baby. It’s a fuckin good time cuz I’ve been waitin on your call.”

“Really,” I said in a deep, throaty voice, as I felt my big nipples suddenly harden as a wetness formed in my pussy.

“Hold on baby,” he said.

“Yo, I gotta take this call, Lets get back to this shit later,” he said, to who I assumed was the female with him.

“Let me drain your big load first baby,” I heard the females voice say. “I know just what your great, big hooked-cock needs baby,” the female said with hunger in her voice.

Abruptly, Darcell became angered, and said with a furious voice, “I said get the fuck out bitch, and we’ll finish this shit later.”

Suddenly my body turned on even more, because he wanted to talk to me instead of getting pleasured by whoever was with him. I found out later that it was his aunt, his mothers sister who was his business manager. She was fifty three years old and had a degree in business. She handled all his bookings and schedules for live appearances.

“Sorry bout that shit baby,” he said with irritation in his voice.

“I understand,” I replied as the words of him having a big-hooked cock lingered in my mind.

“So baby, I’m fuckin hopein you called cuz you wanna fuck, cuz my big cocks been rock-hard since I saw that smoking-hot body of yours.”

“Ummm really,” I purred.

“Fuck yeah, and fuck the ‘hook’ Konya travesti wants that body of yours bad bitch,” he said with authority.

“Ummm,” I purred, excited that he wanted me.” “But what about the female voice I heard?” ” and I’m quite sure you have hundreds of girls that you can fuck whenever you desire,” I added a bit provocatively.

“Yeah. No shit. Tons of pussy, 24/7, day and night, but you is a fuckin hot smoker that I knows my big hook will really dig on fuckin,” he said boldly and with arrogance in his voice.

“Ummm… so nice to hear,” I purred, letting him know I wanted to fuck him.

“So is that old racist fuck of a husband be leaving tomorrow,” he said, not realizing that my husband could hear every word because the rapper was on speaker phone.

“I have even better news baby,” I said in a deep throaty voice.

“Yeah?” “Lets hear it baby,” he said with interest.

“He’s actually home right now packing to leave in an hour from now.

“Fuck. I likes the sound of that shit even more,” he growled.

“I was hoping you would baby,” I said in a throaty voice.

This is when I went into my plan.

“Baby, I have a deal for you,” I said in a hot breath.”

Intrigued, he said in a business-like tone, “Lay it out sexy.”

“I know your feelings towards my husband; which by-the-way you are right about him being a racist and prejudice. But, I also know that if you sign with his agency you will become ultra-rich.”

“Yeah, I knows that that old fuck owns one of the biggest agencies in the fucking universe,” he said with bitterness voice. “So what’s your deal baby,” he said questionably.

“The deal is this.” “If you agree to sign the contract at his office today, I’ll be waiting for you at our penthouse the second he leaves.”

It didn’t take but a second for him to answer.

“I’ll be at your place in a few hours,” he said with a hunger in his voice. “Call me once that old- fuck, racist nigga-hater is gone,” he added with utter contempt in his voice.

“I’ll call you once he’s out the door baby,” I said in a sultry voice as my husband smirked then patted me on my thigh.

“This big-ass nigga cock can’t wait for that sexy-ass body of yours baby,” he said hotly.

“And I can’t wait to fuck you and that great-big cock, Mr. Hook,” I said in a heated breath that I knew would have him going crazy.

Although my husband was actually leaving the following day, he decided to stay in our city apartment overnight to allow Darcell and I the opportunity to start our fuck.

When I disconnected from the call I couldn’t stop thinking about how direct the black, eighteen year old rap star was. I also couldn’t stop thinking about how pitch black his skin was, and hearing the words ‘huge hooked cock,’ from the female voice in the room with him. As my husband talked about how great a deal this was going to be for him, the idea of what It was going to be like to fuck Darcell had me going crazy.

As my husband was packing I changed into something sexy. The thought of fucking the young rap artist had me so turned on. Within the hour my husband got the call from one of his attorneys confirming the contract had been signed. As I was dressing I kept hearing and seeing my phone ring. It was Darcell who was calling every thirty seconds. This turned me on, knowing he couldn’t wait to fuck me.

My husband had already left as I was changing. Before leaving he kissed me on the forehead thanking me for helping him sign yet another multi-million dollar deal. As I was attaching my stockings to my garter belt I grinned slyly and said in a seductive voice, “I think the pleasure will be ALL mine darling.”

My body was already on fire knowing I was going to fuck the eighteen year old thug rap artist.

Picking up the phone as it rang again, I said in a deep, throaty voice, “He’s gone baby.”

“Fuck, Im commin up with the biggest hard-on you eva seen bitch,” he said in a commanding voice.

“So horny for you baby,” I purred. “I’ll send the private elevator down right now.

My husband had already informed the front desk that they allow a young black boy up on our private elevator. Our building has very tight security, and he wanted the front-desk staff not to ask for identification,

I greeted, Darcell at the door in a pair of nude stockings attached to a cream colored garter belt and a classic pair of black high heel pumps. I wore a sheer lace white sheer strapless bra that looked sinful on me. Its transparency showed the fullness and hang of my pendulous 34G breasts in a way that made them look even more nude.

The transparency of the white lace material revealed my huge nipples and wide areola. My outfit was completed by a white, lace thong that looked sinful on me, as it rode high on my slender hips.

Walking out of our private elevator his eyes were all over me.

“Fuck. You are one sexy bitch,” he said, as he starred me up and down with hunger in his eyes, while mine yes were riveted to the huge İzmir travesti curving bulge in his pants.

His guttural talk turned me on like crazy. This was a youth unlike any I’ve ever fucked. All of my lovers came from pedigree-stock. They all went to elite private schools and spoke in well-articulated English. Darcell was from the other side of the tracks where black on black killings were a daily occurrence.

I could see his eyes riveted to my huge nipples which were throbbing. Darcell and his pitch-black skin sent shivers through my body.

As I walked to him the clicking of my high heels filled the air with the sounds of lust.

“Gotta suck these big-ass nipples,” he said intensely. ” been thinkin bout these fucking huge-ass nipples all fuckin day,” he added as he reached- back and with a powerful grasp tore my bra off.

The way he aggressively took my four clasp bra in his hand and ripped it from my body, shattering the four clasps, sent a chill down my spine. It was a chill that had me instantly turned-on.

With his mouth hungrily sucking each nipple I threw my head back and groaned passionately.

“Oh God baby,” I moaned as his full lips greedily sucking my engorged nipples drove me insane.

“Oh God yes,” I moaned over and over, as his big, pouty lips sucked each of my huge nipples to the point where I felt my body shudder and softly cum.

“Baby,” I moaned as his pouty lips drew a soft orgasm out of me.

“You feel that shit deep in that hot-ass pussy don’t you bitch,” he said then went back to sucking my aching nipples.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned as another deep orgasm overtook me.

Even thorough I towered over him by nearly a foot we kissed hungrily in my entryway for twenty minutes. His tongue sought out mine and everything about his aggressiveness had me so turned on. His scent was so different for all other men.

His touch was hard and firm, especially the way he was pawing at my ass-cheeks. I could tell he was all about getting what he wanted, and on his terms.

As we kissed his hands were all over my body and mine were exploring every inch of his. As I massaged his cock through his pants I was startled by his size, especially the shocking hooked curve of his cock. My hand could barely go across the center of his shaft.

“You like this big-hooked mother fucker,” he said with a hint of arrogance in his voice.

“Oh god,” I purred as I tried to comprehend what it was going to look like.

“You ever had a hooked cock,” he said with conceit in his voice, as he kissed my neck and shoulders then my aching nipples.

“Never,” I groaned as my hand tried to comprehend what it would look like.

“Its eleven inches, bitch and ten inches around, and this hook will stretch your hot-ass pussy wider than any dick ever has,” he said arrogantly.

“Oh God,” I purred as my hand traveled its throbbing length then went over the hook that curved right above his knee and went to the left side of his pants.

It was truly the width of a log and the big, hooked curve was shocking. I never felt a cock like this in all my years of fucking. I could not comprehend how he could have such a monsters cock for being so short in stature.

“How bout a Nigga cock, bitch?” he said as he bit down on my nipple.

The term stunned me, but also turned me on.

“No,” I shrieked from his teeth biting my nipple. “You’re my first.”

“First what bitch?” he said in a commanding voice, as he bit the other nipple.

Sparks were shooting through me as my nipples went crazy in his hungry mouth. I knew it was guttural to talk like this, but I also wanted to please him.

With pause I said, “You’re the first Nigger I’ve ever had,” I said cautiously.

“It’s Nigga, not nigger bitch,” he said with amusement. “Your racist mutha-fucker-old-ass husband calls us niggers. But you gotta be on point and call me a nigga,” he said with authority.

“Now let me ax you this shit again bitch. “Have you eva had a Nigga cock?” he said as he bit down on my nipple.

“No,” I never have have.”

“Never had what bitch?” he said with annoyance in his voice.

“I’ve never had a nigga cock before,” I groaned as my pussy shuttered and came from his sucking and biting my aching nipples.

“Good. Cuz after Im done fucking you, all your gonna eva want is my Nigga cock,” he said in a voice that had me moaning and even thinking that he may be right.

We then kissed hard. My body was on fire. This was so taboo for me. I was seventy six and he was eighteen. I came from a very upscale lifestyle while he came from the depths and the worst parts of the inner-city.

“Take that big Nigga cock out and show me how you suck all your cocks, you fuckin sexy bitch.”

I should have been put-off by his comments, but instead his words brought out an animalistic side in me.

The instant I pulled down his pants I was greeted with the most staggering sight I have ever seen in my life.

“Oh God,” I moaned as it ran down his thigh then curved way-out to the side, going past his left knee.

Never in my life have I seen a cock that looked so sexy and so menacing at the same time. His huge-hooked cock was pitch-black. It was smooth in texture and almost freakish looking because of the big hook.

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[and now for something completely different]

“You could be my last time.”

“I hope not. You aren’t that old.”

“I feel old. And with my health, I just don’t know about the future.”

“So why assume I’m the last?”

“I no longer seem to have the knack.”

“Knack for what?”

“Attracting women. Or sex for that matter. Though I don’t really know about the sex part- haven’t had any in so long.”

“Well, I find you very attractive. Sexy even.”

“Despite the fact that I’m more than twice your age.”

She laughed loudly. I loved that- how she was unafraid to let loose with her pleasure, right from deep in her belly.

“I loved how you used to pretend that you were too old for me.”

“I wasn’t pretending. That’s what I thought.”

“I saw how you looked at me. Like a drowning man.”

“And that makes you the oasis in my desert. Except all I’ve been discovering lately are mirages. So I thought that about you as well.”

“So now you want a taste, to know that I am real?”

“You are the most real woman I have ever known. But I am very curious about how you taste.”

“Don’t we all taste alike?”

“Do all cocks feel the same?”

“I’ve never really paid much attention. Mostly I just try to avoid gagging.”

“Well, then you’d be happy to know that my poor old weapon won’t respond, so I won’t be begging you for any blowjobs…”

“But what if I want to lick it, to take it into my mouth, to see how it feels?”

“Just like I want to lick you so that I see how you taste? I have no trouble with that. Sometimes, my balls do roll around, and my shaft throbs, but there is no stiffens, no fullness, no hardness…”

“So- truth in advertising. I like that. Most women might not find that sexy, but I do. I don’t want to be labelled as your last time though. You don’t have any sort of fatal disease as far as I know. You might live for decades. Imagine how some candy striper at the old folks home might taste- all wet because at eighteen she’s wet all the time, not really wanting to change diapers and give sponge baths but needing volunteer hours to graduate, not about to complain when you graze her tit with your arm, and then proceed to be bolder. It might take a few visits, but eventually, when Ankara travesti you are alone in your room, and everybody else is at bingo, she offers you a taste…”

“I wouldn’t say no, but I am not holding my breath dreaming that will ever happen.”

“So we are in agreement that I might not be your last taste?”

“Never count on the bush in the bush is my philosophy…”

“Ugh. That expression is so NOT sexy… not to mention just a poor play on the real saying.”

“But you concede that I ought to eat you out?”

“Unlike you, I expect to have many more orgasms in my life, but sharing one with you would be an interesting experience, so why not?”

“Because I don’t have a nice hard cock to fuck you with?”

“Nonsense. That will make it more novel, so more interesting.”

“Because talking about it so much has taken all the spontaneity out of it, and all the fun as well?”

“How about we just cuddle a bit and…”

“…and see what comes up? I know that old line, but alas, my days of rising to the occasion are in the past.”

“…and you think that just because you were a master cocksman, your other talents won’t be appreciated? Darling, you were the kindest, most generous, most giving man I’ve ever had sex with…”

“…and you’ve had more than a few…”

“…but for some reason, am always drawn back to you…”

“…like a beautiful butterfly…”

“Well, thank you for saying that. But butterfly or thirsty bee, it isn’t just about the pollen. I come for the whole experience. And with you, I come harder and longer than with any other man. I will admit, there have been a few women that might give you a run for your money though. I could invite one over sometime to share if you’d like.”

“Are you forgetting that we’ve shared before?”

“Yes, but as you point out, this would be a new paradigm, a fresh experience. No constraints of worrying how to deal with the fact no man can stay stiff indefinitely.”

“By inviting an extra man instead of a woman? Or, by using restraints, just to be poetic?”

“I so like a wee bit of bondage play. We could always tie up the other gal, and both ravage her, then make her eat my cunt.”

“Without any cream to make a pie? Definitely need Konya travesti another guy to supply…”

“If you insist on having another guy involved, we can do that too. We already have, if you recall, but no one including him, stacked up to you, and the poor bugger just felt left out. But I do like the idea of a foursome. Never tried that.”

“So you admit that you want a nice stiff cock?”

“Oh, sure, there are times it feels great, but nothing compared to the pleasure that you give me.”

“Gave you.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“I think we should get naked first.”

“Of course.”

“My poor shriveled cock may offend you.”

“Let me see.”

“You get naked too.”

“Oh, look, I’ve just undone one button, and something is throbbing in your pants.”

“Yeah, that’s part of my frustration- I get these throbbing sensations, and my balls roll about in their cage, but nothing more happens.”

“It looks fat, even though it isn’t stiff. I bet I’ll enjoy that rubbing up against me. Now that we’re naked, let’s climb into bed together.”

“Roll on your side, let me spoon up to you.”

“Wrap your arms around me, pull me tight, let me wriggle my fat butt into your lap.”

“Your butt is far from fat- it’s perfectly voluptuous.”

“I was right- your cock feels great like this, tucked in between my buttocks. I love the feel of it throbbing.”

“How about if I press it against your butt hole, even though it isn’t hard?”

“Sure. Could you tweak my nipples too while you do that?”

“Like this?”

“Oh, you’ve always known what I like. Now tug the nubs while you thrust against my rosebud. Yes, just like that. Now kiss the back of my neck?”

“Those ‘butterfly kisses’ you like so much?”

“Shut up and make those lips and tongue dance, old man.”

“Mmmmm. I guess the youngsters don’t have this technique?”

“Ohhhh…it does help that you have the experience all right. Say, what is that your hand is doing now?”

“Running down your torso towards your pussy, my dear. It smells like you are getting wet.”

“Yes, indeed I seem to be. But stop along the way and rub my belly a bit will you?”

“My tip seems to be teasing your sphincter open.”

“Of İzmir travesti course, I can feel it. Why do you think I want you to take your time?”

“Are you playing with your own nipples now?”

“Sure, why not? Your fingers seem to be busy elsewhere. Do you mind very much that my belly is soft and flabby, not tight like some little candy striper?”

“What is it with you and teasing me about candy stripers? I’m not ready for the old folks home just yet.”

“No, you aren’t I just wanted you to say that out loud while I enjoy how your cock is swelling just that little bit that fills up my anus nicely without hurting.”

“I can thrust a bit if you want, but doubt I will get any harder.”

“Mmmmm…no need for stiffness when I have fullness. Move your fingers to my clit, I’m almost ready to climax, but I need to be touched.”

“Do you want it in your cunt while I do that?”

“Ohhh, listen to who is getting all assertive now. I like that, but after I come, I think I want to sleep in your arms. We can try it with you in my cunt in the morning.”

“You are so wet.”

“That’s because you still know just how to please a woman. That’s why I hope that I’m not your last. That would be such a waste for womankind.”

“I can kiss your shoulder and neck, but then I can’t talk more.”

“Just talk a bit less, but keep talking between…ohh, yes, like that.”

“Are you talking about my fingers or my lips”

“Both, of course, plus the way your cock keeps throbbing in my ass, and even how your balls are dancing against my thighs.”

“How about two fingers making your clit dance?”

“That, I think I like the most.”

“Better than my tongue?”

“Next time, I want your tongue. This time I love the closeness of our flesh.”

“You hope therell be a next time?”

“Of course, always.Now finger fuck me like only you cam.”

“How’s this?”

“Can you feel my shivers? I love how you touch…me…just…like…this…wait- is that a third finger slipping into my gash? Are you going to blade me with…oh you are… all four finger…and the thumb flicking…m…my..p…pe…pearl.”

“I’m shaking as well. I feel just like I’m about to pump out great gobs of goo into you, even though I know I’m not.”

“Shut up and fuck me, I… I’m g…going…to c…shit, I am coming!”

“That’s it, don’t hold back, I’ll hold you tight.”

“Hold me until I sleep please.”

“I will hold you until the sun comes up.”

“I want you to hold me until the sun burns out.”

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My buddy Tom asked me to do a favor for him. His mom and dad were divorced now and Tom was going to stay with his dad for the week. Tom wanted to know if I could check in on his mom, Carla, and give her a hand around the house. I told him it would be no problem and I would stop by Saturday. I did as Tom asked and Tom’s mom answered the door that morning.

I almost did a double take. Carla was in a short robe that barely covered her crotch. Did she normally dress this way around Tom I wondered?

“Tom asked me to stop by and give you a hand,” I told her.

“Come on in Bobby, sorry I haven’t got dressed yet.”

I certainly didn’t mind looking at Carla. For a woman in her forties she was damn attractive still. Carla had brown hair down to her shoulders and was very curvy. I thought her boobs were going to pop out from that robe she wore. She asked if I could take the garbage bag out to the can for starters. It was full and too heavy for her. That was easy enough I thought. She had me do a few more tasks and then she offered me a drink.

It was a little early to be drinking I thought, but a beer should sure taste good. She got the bottle for me and then sat down across from me at the kitchen table. I really got a good look at her tits now. I wondered if she was showing off or if this was normal for Carla. I think Carla caught me staring a little too long. She smiled and asked me if I like what I saw. My face went red, but I couldn’t help it that my cock was stirring in my pants.

Carla then did something I will never forget. She slowly undid the belt to the robe and let it slip from her shoulders. My eyes were now Ankara travesti resting on her two large tits. I think my mouth must have opened. Carla got up from the table and walked over to where I was sitting. I saw all of her naked body now and she looked damn fine. Carla took a breast in one of her hands and waved it in front of my face. I knew what I had to do now.

I opened my mouth and started to lick and suck on that big nipple. I could barely get it into my mouth. I went from one tit to the other tasting Carla’s hard nipples. We didn’t go at it for very long when Carla had me stand up. She worked my belt open and pulled down the fly of my pants. She reached in and pulled my rigid cock free. Carla got onto her knees and took my dick in between her lips. I got a lesson on how a real woman sucks cock.

She took me all the way down to the root each time. Carla was squeezing my nut sacs and she soon found her way to my ass. As she bobbed up and down my rod she slid a finger between my ass cheeks. I never had anyone do that before. After a couple of minutes of that I thought I was going to blow my load. Carla must have known just how far to push me. She pulled her finger out and stopped sucking my dick. She stood up, took my arm and led me back to her bed.

She got onto her back and spread her legs for me. I stripped out of my clothes in record time and I slipped in between her thighs. I took my cock in my hand and rubbed the head up and down her wet folds.

“Please don’t torture me Bobby.”

I slowly pushed my dick in. I worked my dick around as I went deeper inside her pussy. I think Carla wanted Konya travesti all of me as she wrapped her legs around my back and pulled me tightly into her body. We just went crazy after that. There was no build up from then. I hammered Carla’s pussy as hard as I could. I drove my seven inches of meat into her wet opening. God did Carla get vocal. She told me to fuck her harder. I was going as hard as I could. My balls were hitting her ass cheeks with every stroke.

Carla’s pussy just seemed to inhale my dick completely. I surely had never had sex like this before. My friend’s mom was like a lusty slut who hadn’t had sex in a long time. I kept pumping my dick into Carla as I tried to hold out as long as possible. I thought that Carla was having some small orgasms. She was thrashing around beneath my body. Carla brought her legs up higher on my back. I really got deeper into her pussy then.

We went a long time before I felt my nuts tightening. I tried to hold off as long as I could, but I felt my load rising up to the tip of my dick. I didn’t know if I was supposed to pull out or not, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I arched my back and I exploded inside Carla. I looked at her face as she first felt my seed shooting inside her. I wondered how long she had been without sex.

I kept grunting as I unloaded one stream of cum after another. Carla had her legs and arms wrapped around my torso as if she was holding on for dear life. All I knew was I must have shot at least 5 good eruptions from my dick. Carla was shaking as she milked my sticky cum from my dick. Her pussy felt like a hand squeezing the last remains İzmir travesti of my cum load. It took some minutes, but I finally emptied out. Carla did unlock her legs and I pulled my spent dick from her cum stained pussy.

We just ended up kissing each other afterwards. Carla got up from the bed and went to the bathroom to bring back some towels to clean up. After all that lovemaking we talked. Carla told me that since she had gotten divorced she hadn’t been with a man in bed. That was almost two years, she said. When Tom decided to spend some time with his dad, she knew she had to make a move on me. It seems Carla had been looking me over for sometime and liked what she saw.

That week that Tom was away was the best week I ever experienced. I was in Carla’s bed every day. All I knew was that Carla was greedy for sex with me. She ended up riding my cock, I took her on all fours and I lifted her onto my cock as we stood up in the living room. Most times we would end up showering after initially having sex. All that hot water would get the both of us worked up a second time.

I would have Carla place her hands on the shower wall and then I would thrust my dick into her from behind. Carla would get to screaming as I took her this way. I hoped the neighbors couldn’t hear what was going on. By the end of the week my dick was all red and sore from fucking. I was almost looking forward to Tom coming back home. The day before Tom was to arrive we had a marathon fuck session.

We would end up screwing and I would shoot my load into Carla’s pussy. We would rest briefly and then start all over again. One thing was for sure. Carla was a cum whore. She said she loved feeling the heat of my load as it entered deep inside her.

The day finally came and Tom was back home. I saw him the next day and he thanked me for looking after his mom. I told him the pleasure was all mine. If he only knew!

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Charleston Hartwell was a good business man. He had made a quiet living in his early adult life, working for others and learning the business of his choice – flowers. Then, when his grandfather had died, he had been given the opportunity of a lifetime. A healthy inheritance, invested the right way, paid off with bonuses! And Mr. Hartwell soon found himself the proud owner of his own prosperous business, Hartwell’s Hearts and Flowers. His one little store turned quickly into a chain, with many who wished he would franchise. But he refused, keeping his fingers tightly on the reigns of his own little enterprise for many decades.

That’s how he got to be so lucky, he told himself as he stared across the table with appreciating eyes at his companion.

It was only because Mr. Hartwell had remained the sole owner of his flower shops that he had just happened to be around when Victoria Michaels came in. She was ordering flowers for her deceased mother’s grave. And she had politely asked Mr. Hartwell to excuse her as she reached across his line of sight and touched a particularly expensive flower vase.

He had stepped back courteously, noting the young woman’s soft smile and lowered gaze. She had pale misty blue eyes and platinum blonde hair, probably dyed to get that beautiful golden colour women envied of each other. She had reached out to the vase, delicately turned the hanging price tag over, and had sighed softly before moving away. Mr. Hartwell watched her go from the corner of his eye, then took a look at the price of the vase himself. It wasn’t really that expensive. Her reaction to the price of the vase made him wonder.

Quietly, he had followed her about the store with his eyes, avoiding the store clerk and the counter as much as he could. He didn’t want the girl to know that she was actually standing in a store he owned. He wanted to observe her more, for she had piqued his curiosity. If she thought the vase was too much, she might really have walked into the wrong store. Hartwell’s was about quality more than quantity. Only the best, he had always insisted. But he almost felt downtrodden imagining a pretty girl like this being unable to buy anything he had for sale.

Victoria Michaels had finally settled on one of the bouquets of prepackaged flowers from the coolers against the walls. When she approached the counter shyly and opened up her purse, Mr. Hartwell stood behind her in line. He watched over her shoulder, ignoring the glances from the clerk behind the counter as he looked into the pretty blonde woman’s purse.

Carefully, she counted out the bills and change for her purchase. She made sure she had exact change, counting it out to the last penny. Obviously a woman of little means, he had thought then. She had taken her wrapped flowers and slowly made her way out of the store, looking one more time longingly at the vase.

The look in her eyes nearly broke Mr. Hartwell’s heart. So it wasn’t surprising that she got only a few feet beyond the doorway before he put his hand on her shoulder.

She had been so startled when he turned her around carefully and presented her with the vase.

“Oh my! No, sir, I couldn’t possibly-” She had begun to object.

But he had insisted.

“How will I repay you?” she had asked. And he had just smiled.

“You have no need to repay me, child,” he said in his eloquent speech. “Do you know who I am?”

The girl blushed and looked down at her feet. She did not know.

Then, boldly, he had put his finger under her soft round chin and lifted her eyes up to his. He pointed a crooked finger at the sign in the window of the shop they stood next to. There was a portrait of him there, on an ad bragging about how many years Hartwell’s Hearts and Flowers had been serving this neighbourhood. He was even wearing his hair the same and a suit almost identical to the black one in the photograph. When he smiled, he was sure the smile was just a bit older than the picture’s…but not by much.

“You’re…you’re Mr. Hartwell?” the girl gasped as the information sunk in.

He nodded, pleased by her reaction. She was flustered and beyond speech.

“So no, dear, you don’t need to repay me.”

He smiled and handed the vase to the young lady standing so flabbergasted infront of him. She gaped and her mouth worked in silence. Even so, it was the most beautiful mouth he had ever seen.

“But,” he said slyly, “you could do me the honour of dinner. Tonight, perhaps?”

She could turn him down, he knew. He was old, slightly stooped because of his age. His hair was snow white, and his wrinkles had wrinkles. But he did so love beautiful women. He’d married three. And though he’d sworn off them ten years ago, he found himself unable to resist. Just one more try, he thought as he looked into lovely Victoria Michaels’ eyes. Just say yes!

“Yes!”

“Yes?” he asked.

“Yes I will go to dinner with you tonight, Mr. Hartwell,” she had said, blushing again.

He held her hand in both of Ankara travesti his, stroking the soft skin as he smiled.

“Wonderful. Where shall I send my car to, then?”

And now they were here, having dinner at his country mansion thirty minutes out of the city itself. He’d considered causing a stir and taking her to the most expensive restaurant in town. But some part of him doubted that she would have the clothes to fit in. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel alienated. All he really wanted was her, all to himself. His country home was the best place to make that happen. The servants were few and rarely seen. And the coziness of the patio at this time of year was perfect.

He looked out at the sun as it began to set beyond the horizon. The vineyards were his and beyond them, an orchard. All he surveyed was his. Mr. Hartwell looked back at the delicious blonde who hadn’t taken her eyes off of him.

Perhaps even she would be his, he thought.

Under the table, inside his slacks, some ancient beast stirred hungrily. And it made him grin even as much as it surprised him. The young girl, probably no more than twenty years old, was awakening in his body a thirst. As he lifted his wine glass to his lips and met her tender gaze evenly, he wondered if she knew what she was in for.

After dinner, he gave her a full tour of the house. He pointed out the grand piano in its special room reserved for concerts performed by one of his nieces. He led her through the kitchens and watched with pleasure as she ooh’d and ahh’d over the shining appliances and lengthy cupboards and counters. And when he showed her the master bedroom, she wasted no time in going to the bed and running her fingers over the highest quality faux fur quilts he kept on the bed. They were vestiges from his youth, when he had always hoped to one day be able to afford real fur. In his wisdom and older years, he realized the foolishness of such a dream and supplanted it at last with a much better choice. It looked and felt the same, at least to him, and that was all that mattered.

Victoria ran her hands over the furs, luxuriating in the feel of the soft tufts between her delicate fingers. Then she blushed crimson, realizing he was watching her. He stood with his hands behind his back, wondering if she could see the hard on she was causing in his loose slacks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, moving to sit up.

“Oh, please don’t apologize!” He smiled at her. “Every man loves to see a beautiful woman on his bed, thoroughly enjoying herself.”

He wondered if his voice sounded like a seductive purr to her, like it did to him. And he wondered if he was being too obvious. Then he just stopped caring and smiled at the young woman.

Victoria raised an eyebrow in an almost bold gesture. To Mr. Hartwell’s surprise, she leaned carefully back on the bed, keeping her eyes on his. She spread her long platinum blonde tresses out behind her and smiled softly.

She looked like an angel just then, with a golden aura or halo above her head. He walked slowly forward towards the bed, stopping only when his knees brushed hers.

“Do you have any idea what a sight like that does to a man? Even a man my age?”

She nodded, and slowly sat up, eyes still locked to his.

Mr. Hartwell put a hand next to the woman’s cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. He watched as she licked her trembling lips, and his heart went out to her.

“Maybe you only think you do. Maybe the recent loss of your mother is causing you to act…differently than you would normally.”

Her smile disappeared, but she looked no less beautiful to him. She lowered her eyes for a moment, then looked back up to the old man’s face.

“My mother…she took care of me, Mr. Hartwell. Losing her like I did changed me. I know that I might not be myself right now. But…”

She blinked and looked deeply into his eyes.

“But whoever I am, I’m still sitting here on your bed, Mr. Hartwell. Whoever I might be, I’m still here, with you. That just doesn’t seem like a bad thing, like something I should regret.”

Her words were confusing, all the more so as she lifted her fingers to his belt and began to undo the buckle. He sucked in his breath, feeling his cock jump in his boxers as she unzipped his slacks and pushed them to his knees. Slowly, she tugged his underwear down, pushing them to his pants. Then she lifted her eyes up and gasped, blinking at Mr. Hartwell’s cock.

He wasn’t a small man. His member had seen better days but it had always been well exercised. When he’d come into money, and had become secure in his finances, he had made sure that his penis saw the benefits. He’d been married three times to girls just like Victoria Michaels. Sweet young women, or so he’d thought each time. But they’d all turned out to be harlots, whores really. They just wanted his money. None of them had given him children, and that was mostly because once he found out they were sluts, Konya travesti he felt a huge disappointed and stopped desiring them.

Would young Victoria here turn out just the same? At least he’d get to see that much before having to marry her or make some silly commitment. She was sitting here, staring at his thick cock, and trembling like a school girl. Was she really so innocent?

She lifted her hand up to touch his cock and he quickly gripped her wrist. He pushed her back suddenly on the bed, forcing himself ontop of her and staring intently into her frightened eyes.

“So what is it you want?” he demanded. “Why are you here on my bed, Victoria?”

She stuttered and gaped, looking so afraid. It excited him.

“Maybe you aren’t here because you’ve changed. Maybe you’re just here because the moment I saw you, I wanted to fuck you. Real bad, girl. Real bad.”

He grabbed her other wrist and put it above her head, holding both in one hand. He was surprising himself with his sudden strength and vitality. Thank you, he thought to Victoria. This is turning out to be a great night after all.

Slowly, Mr. Hartwell lowered his free hand to Victoria’s face. She was terrified, that was very obvious. He had indulged in all sorts of deviations during his youth and early adulthood. He knew terror and fear when he saw them in a young woman’s eyes. He saw them now, but he also saw something else. There was a hunger in this woman’s face, a craving for something only he could give her.

He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, hard, fiercely. And she returned the kiss as best she could. Apparently, kissing was something he could teach her.

Later, he thought. I’ve got to check something first…

He moved his hand down from her face, pulling himself up on the bed and kicking off his shorts and pants so he could lean over the young woman. He watched himself as his hand grazed over her blouse. It wasn’t the most expensive material but poorly made blouses tended to tear with greater difficulty than the ridiculously expensive ones. Just one of life’s ironies, he knew. He cupped her breast over the blouse, then stared into Victoria’s eyes as he gripped the buttons in the front and pulled. He pulled hard, two times, before the blouse finally gave way. The girl was breathless.

Mr. Hartwell looked down at Victoria’s chest. Her brassiere was simple, cotton or linen, and white. He easily slid his hand under one cup and gave her breast a squeeze.

It was real. Her beautifully curved breasts were full, her nipples hardening as he massaged from one tit to the other. And bless all the angels, her tits were real!

Unable to believe his luck, Mr. Hartwell moved his hand from Victoria’s chest. He moved it lower, stroking her abdomen and watching her eyes as she nearly fainted from his touch. Something tickled in the back of his brain but he was not willing to hear the happy sound just yet. He had to know for sure first.

Slowly, he watched as his hand moved lower, pulling open the young lady’s skirt. It was the kind of skirt someone should be wearing to an office, a secretary’s skirt. Maybe that’s what she did for a living. He hadn’t had the time to find out yet and didn’t know if he cared. Right now, it was an offending piece of material keeping him at bay. He looked at Victoria sternly as he released her wrists and rose up above her.

On his knees now, he ignored her pleading face as she bit her lip. The skirt finally came apart in his hands after several strong pulls and tugs. The seams just seemed to melt away and the fabric separated at last. He threw the skirt remnants away and began to stroke over Victoria’s hips.

“Please,” she was begging softly.

Did she want him to stop? Or could she be asking him to keep going? It didn’t matter.

Mr. Hartwell moved cautiously over the girl’s underpants. They were some sort of cotton blend, and not very sexy. He stood now, rising off the bed but still hovering over the woman’s body. He tucked his fingers in the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down her legs, dropping them to the floor.

The excited scent of woman was divine as it wafted up to his nose. He lowered his mouth over her and kissed her belly, loving the way she convulsed at the unexpected and unaccustomed touch. He put a hand on her jutting hip bones, moving down her legs to her thighs. Then he pushed her legs apart.

“Please. I was…I was going to give you head, Mr. Hartwell. I’ll please you, please don’t do this.”

So she thought she’d just give him head, did she? Is that what she did for all the men who bought her vases? He wanted to giggle but didn’t.

The sight of her pussy was absolutely beautiful. She was slick with juice already. He reached out a hand and stroked over the brown tufts of pussy hair. Yes, she definitely dyed her hair blonde, because down here, where she was the most natural, she was a chestnut colour. He lowered himself to his knees, pulling her to the end of İzmir travesti the bed so that her round ass lined up with the bed’s edge. Then he pushed her legs up over his shoulders. With his hands over her slender thighs, he could maneuver his thumbs very well. And he used them to pull her hairy pussy lips apart. The pearls of pussy juice inside were irresistible and he flicked his tongue over them, tasting them.

She cringed and squealed as he began to feverishly lick her crevices. No secrets were left unrevealed as his thumbs kept her swollen lips pried open. He explored her folds, her clitoris as it became a hard wet bud, and even the tight hole she begged him not to ‘kiss’. He was going to kiss it, alright. He thrust his tongue inside her depths and found himself coming up against a barrier.

Could it be? She was a virgin!

He tongued the barrier as best he could, appreciating and respecting it rather than tearing it. That would come soon enough!

Mr. Hartwell rose up at last. He hadn’t let her cum though, hadn’t let her reach full orgasm. Whatever sexual adventures she had thought she’d had in her short life were about to be put asunder. Mr. Hartwell knelt on the bed, between Victoria’s pale legs. He looked down at her, daring her to stop him.

The young woman put her arm over her eyes, covering her face. Mr. Hartwell pushed her hand away.

“If only you could see what I see, darling,” he said. “If you could appreciate the view I have.”

He moved his hand over her pussy again, thumbing her clit and making her wince with the pressure. Then he stroked his cock. It was just as long as it had always been, longer than he’d seen it in some time. And it was just as thick, just as ready.

“Please,” she said, still begging hopelessly. “I’m not on the pill! I might get pregnant!”

That gave him pause. What if she did get pregnant? None of his women had ever done that. And he knew it wasn’t because of his sperm. He’d been checked, checked and rechecked. It just hadn’t been ‘right’, the experts had told him. Sometimes that’s how things went. And sometimes people paid exorbitant amounts of money to MAKE things go well. He wasn’t willing to do that.

So what if she did get pregnant? She’d be the first.

He smiled down at her.

“Do you know how very wealthy I am, child?” he said.

She nodded through some crocodile tears.

“If you get pregnant,” he said, not even believing his own words, “I will marry you. On the spot.”

Victoria Michaels blinked up at Mr. Hartwell. “Are…are you serious?”

He nodded. He was serious. He just didn’t expect he’d have to actually follow through on that promise. But he didn’t doubt the effect his words would have on the woman beneath him.

He held his dick in one hand, pushing the fat head against the woman’s swollen pussy lips. His other hand reached down and pulled one of her large tits out of her bra, squeezing it hard. She winced but did nothing to stop him. Then she raised up on her elbows, pushing his hand harder against his chest.

She watched as he used his big cock to part her pussy, to open her up. There was no doubt in his mind that nothing had ever penetrated this fine cunt infront of him. Maybe a digit of a finger here, the rub of a toy there. But she’d put nothing really fat into her puss before, nothing of substance. He was going to change that. Right now.

Mr. Hartwell put his hand behind Victoria’s neck, almost folding her in half without letting her pussy slide away.

“I’m going to fuck you. With this cock, right here. It’s going to hurt.”

“But…but if I get pregnant, you’ll take care of me….so…so it’s okay…”

He wanted to laugh out loud but didn’t. The pure innocence of her kept him hard and excited. And he wanted to fuck her, so bad.

“Watch,” he commanded. Victoria watched.

He pushed his cock harder, releasing her neck now and putting his hand on her thigh. His fingers dug in, releasing some of his tension so he wouldn’t go too fast. She tried to watch as he entered her, but just couldn’t and fell back onto the bed.

He licked his lips, looking down as both hands rested on Victoria’s thighs. He let his cock do all the work now. And he pushed harder with his hips, forcing his cock into the tight hole that awaited him.

It was so tight. So fucking tight. He pushed more. And she yielded, just slightly. He pushed more. And more of his length was inside her. This divine being of goodness and purity was opening up beneath and before him. His fingers dug into her thighs and she squealed again, covering her face with her arms. He couldn’t resist, couldn’t hold back anymore.

Mr. Hartwell threw himself ontop of Victoria, pushing his cock deep inside her objecting cunthole. He could feel it sucking at him, convulsing around the foreign flesh. But it was unexpectedly rhythmic and only served to further his excitement. He grabbed for Victoria’s arms and held them above her head on the bed. Then he began to rut inside her, thrusting hard and fast. He was unstoppable now, even though she cried and wept under him. He looked at the fresh tears streaming down her face, and wondered if she was crying out of pain or shame.

Was she so different from the sluts he had known?

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