Girls Camp! Day 02

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All girls in this story are over 18, as noted in chapter 1. Readers should read the first part of this story (Girls Camp! Day 1) before reading this one!


I woke up this morning and placed the underwear from the girl I nailed last night with the other two I had been given as a souvenir. I had always liked collecting, but did not expect this.

The day began quite late after a long sleep in for the girls, a cheerleading squad of about 15, the two married teachers, and myself. The kitchen was stocked with cereal for the week and this was the easiest option in the vacancy of any willing cooks. Emma, the female teacher, greeted me with a smile as I entered the small communal hall, remembering my comment about her sexy nightwear last night. She was probably the first one up this morning, and looked fresh. And sexy as ever.

She discussed her plans for the group to go for a hike, and of course I offered to be their guide. So she got the girls ready while I had breakfast and a shower. We left at about 11am.

It was another hot summers day and the girls were again in their shorts. They made sure their friends helped them rub lotion into their backs and covered their legs. I was in awe once again at their collaborative appearance. Despite their varying heights, appearance and ethnicity, they were all toned and skinny, a perfect mix of muscle and flesh in their thighs. How could I not admire such bodies around me.

As I led the group through a bush track I knew well, leading to a waterfall, I overheard the conversation of three girls behind me. It started off as a meaningless rant about their boyfriends, but moved on to the fall in share prices. I was shocked to say the least that girls like these could have such knowledgeable conversations. Economics being the degree I had studied for two years in university, I understood their conversation and was impressed with their insight. I turned to join them and realised one girl had left. Obviously this kind of talk was over her head.

One girl was a tall, busty south American girl, with legs that never ended and an ass that could keep me in a trance for hours. The other was a smaller girl of a confusing ethnicity. She looked a little bit Asian, with beautiful olive skin and flowing black hair that fell on her small shoulders. Her body was more gentle, and the way she walked was tantalising. I was glad that I had two girls here who could hold an intelligent conversation for the rest of the hike.

By the time we had arrived, I had learnt all about their ambitions to study at the top universities, and gave them advice based on my own experience. In some ways I was annoyed the walk came to an end, as the other girls gasped in relief that we finally arrived at the water hole. My two friends were dragged away and once again I was left to watch the throng of girls in bikinis splash into the water. This time the two teachers joined them, and Emma ran some underwater training exercises that the girls seemed to enjoy.

I was talking to Mike, the only other man for the week, about the woes of being a teacher. He was a genuine guy, but far too loud and confident for me to become mates with him. I could imagine the worst of him, but see why Emma married him. Suddenly we heard a yelp form down in the water and saw that one of the girls had hit her head on a rock while underwater. “Great!” I thought, “just what I need.”

It was the Asian girl I had befriended earlier, and she seemed to have taken a pretty heavy knock. The girl who was partly to blame for knocking her off the jumping rock was this stuck-up blonde girl who acted as though she ran the place. I’m sure there were many people who would have liked to slap her in the face. Trained in first aid, I had the girl lying down, and she soon recovered from her dizziness enough to sit up. It was decided that Mike and I would help her back to the camp as she needed to rest. However her friend, the leggy girl, offered to help and go with her, so that Mike could stay and help Emma get the girls back. So with one arm around each of our shoulders, we began the walk back to camp. I talked to them a little bit, but our focus was on keeping the Asian girl on her feet.

By the time we got back to camp, I think we were all tired and grateful to be able to put the girl down in her bed. As her friend bent over to talk to the drowsy girl, her shapely ass was on show for me. Her short denim shorts struggled to contain it, just as her thin top barely contained her wonderful globes. She offered me a seat on her bed in the next room as we both collapsed, tired and hot.

We talked, and being so close to the girl made me realise the smoothness of her skin, the way a little bit of sweat made her cleavage shine delightfully, and her beautiful eyes. She told me she was Brazilian, and I learnt she was a great dancer. I told her to show me and she wasn’t shy. A soft music came from a player, and she pulled me up while she started dancing. The way she moved her body was amazing, shaking her hips, rubbing her ass on my crotch. tuzla eve gelen escort I did little but sway and hold her arms or hands, but she seemed to go with it. Soon we were standing close to each other, she just a little shorter than me so that our eyes looked deeply into one another’s.

As part of the dance, her body swayed against mine, our hands roaming over each other and I copped a lengthy feel of her behind. Her smiles had changed into a more serious look as she kept her face inches from mine. It was begging the question, and I wasn’t the one to resist. I pecked her lips, and broke away a few inches. Then she pushed her face strongly into mine and I grabbed her wavy hair and held her. The girl never stopped moving her hips as she pushed me against the wall, grinding her whole body against mine.

Our kiss became broken and passionate as she sucked on my lips and bit my tongue. It was the best kiss I had ever been in. Her hands roamed over my abs and down to my pants. She unbuttoned them and lowered them all without losing the connection we had going. As she stroked my lengthy cock, I took over. All this passion gave me energy as I turned her and thrust her against the wall. She pulled her top over her head and I plunged my face into her amazing bosom. Sucking on her nipples, her mouth was free to moan in passion, her hands already unbuttoning her shorts. The heat of the moment carried me as I licked and kissed my way over her muscular tummy and pulled down her shorts.

Both my hands pulled her ass into my face as I gave her a tongue fucking to be remembered. One of her hands gripped and plucked her nipple, while the other scruffed my hair and pushed my head into her sex.

In the throws of her first orgasm, she thumped her head against the wall repetitively, until I stood up and kissed her again. I kept my fingers working inside her, shaking two fingers up and down, which resulted in a steady flow of juices. She was ready for me, looking at me with fire in her eyes.

I stood against her, lifting one leg into a standing splits position against her body, and eased my way inside her. The music still played and I rocked with the rhythm until my cock was buried completely inside her. We then picked up the tempo, as I lifted both her legs up to lock around my waist, grabbing hold of her ass from beneath. I then proceeded to nail the beautiful girl against the wall. We took no notice that it was the wall, which on the other side directly was the bed of her injured friend. We made a raucous racket, a painting falling from the wall as I withdrew and thrust powerfully into her over and over. Her amazing arms and legs locked around my body, rubbing against me in a joint sweat.

Eventually we fell onto her bed, with her on top of me. In this position I was able to enjoy all the south-American had to offer with her gyrating hips. She wobbled insanely on my pole as she leant forward over me, my hands taking advantage of the breasts that fell before me. Both of us were surprised when our Asian friend appeared behind the Brazilian probing her asshole with a lengthy dildo. This pushed her over the edge, starting her second orgasm of the afternoon.

While she lay back and spasmed on the bed, I tended to undressing our little friend. This took little time, as she smiled and made jokes about “starting without her”. We were in the sixty-nine position as the slender bodied girl crouched over me and we simultaneously readied the other. I used my thumb to probe her little rosebud while I slurped on her vag, and she seemed to like this. Meanwhile, our leggy friend had rejoined the party and was jointly sucking my cock and kissing her friend.

I couldn’t believe I was having my second threesome of the week, what is with cheerleaders these days? Time passed and the Asian was keen to get some dick in her pussy, so I obliged, pounding into her as she lay on her back with her head just off the edge of the bed. I loved the way her amazingly skinny waist tapered out to her fine ass, so round for me to penetrate. I held her legs wide while her friend returned to some dildo action. Quite soon after I had started fucking her, she held a hand up to my abs, signalling me to stop. I paused and she grinned at me, “In my ass, big boy!”

I could barely contain myself as this skinny nympho begged me to put my dick in her ass. I slid her over the edge of the bed, slightly knocking her head on the floor. We all laughed and she said she felt a little dizzy, but maybe it was because of the sex. With her shoulders resting on the floor, her lower back rested against the side of the bed, leaving her slender legs hanging over her body and her plump ass sticking up for the taking. She placed her hands on her tight ass cheeks and spread them, leaving a clear view of her puckered rosebud.

I stood over her, forcing her legs lower with my own, and guided my big sausage into her tightest of holes. We pushed past the pain until once again I could pound into the teen. I found it so hot that she still tuzla otele gelen escort had her white sneakers on and long pink socks. As her friend got into doggy position placing her cunt over her friends face, I could feel my orgasm building. Her asshole was so tight, and winked around my cock as it slid in. It seemed an unnatural sight seeing a thick object disappearing into the girls little asshole, but felt like heaven.

I was too caught up pumping my shaft down the mine to react to the come flowing from it’s end. Instead, I released two strong blasts of manjuice in her ass, before pulling out and have it dribble down her tummy. Kissing both of them again, I left them to clean each other off, and noticed the dildo was not going away just yet. Before I left I made sure to grab their panties. One larger G-string and a small pair of blue cotton undies added to the collection.

I left their room feeling very macho and as though I owned the place, wandering naked across the grass, embracing nature and all it had to offer. I dumped my clothes and their panties in my room, and headed down to the river to wash off. I decided they wouldn’t be back for a while, so went without cossies. On quiet days I would often come to places like this and swim in the nude. I find it extremely satisfying and somewhat erotic.

Wading around the cool water, I suddenly heard some shouts as excited girls ran down to jump in the river. I pretended as though I was wearing my trunks and welcomed them, asking them about their trip. They were all hot and dirty after the walk back through the bush, and just wanted to freshen up. But they didn’t stay in the water for long, leaving after about five minutes without noticing my nude state. All except for the same two cute brunettes as the day before. Again, they approached me and we returned to our rock to slam out another quickie. These girls sure were horny, orgasming several times while I did not empty another load. My cock was still in recovery from earlier.

It was about three when I returned to find everyone having a late lunch in the air-conditioned hall. I loaded a plate with some sandwiches and went to join the two teachers. Emma was just getting up when I heard Mike say, “And get me some more sandwiches too.” Emma left the room seemingly annoyed, as her husband shouted out, “Grab me a napkin darl!” When she didn’t respond, he turned to me and said, “Can you fetch me a napkin champ?” It was more of a command, and I really just wanted to tell him “fuck off do it yourself,” but as I had not sat down yet I went back into the kitchen to get him one. What a lazy ass!

During lunch, one of the girls who I had not really seen, except for some bikini perving, came up to Emma and told her that her shoulders and legs were hurting from the training. Emma asked Mike to give the little girl a massage, but he came up with the excuse that his feet were hurting, and suggested, “how about Lachie does it?” This guy had some hide. But I wasn’t too upset because I know quite a bit about body pains and experienced my fair share of massages. I also knew where the massage table was so I volunteered and we headed to the first aid room through a door out the back of the dining hall.

Following behind the girl, I couldn’t help but notice that she looked just like Vanessa Hudgens from high school musical. She was a petite latina with big dark eyes and long wavy hair. As I set up the table she asked if she should take off her top, and I said only if she wanted to, it would make it better. So she pulled her tight tank top over her head revealing a cute bright yellow bra holding in her small breasts. She got up onto the table in her bra and a loose skirt made of a light silky material, lying face down with her head in the hole in the table. As she was quite a small girl, her feet only came down to ¾ of the table.

I rubbed some massage oil into my hands and placed my big hands on her small shoulders. Pressing gently at first I rubbed it in over her shoulder blades, circling over her soft skin to build up some heat. Slowly I increased the pressure and speed, adding more oil when required. She told me it felt really good, but asked to go more on her back. I replied that the oil may ruin the bra, and suggested I just undo the strap. She said yes and I did so, flipping the straps down off her shoulders and back and onto the table. Her entire back was now bare and my hands free to move. But her body was so tiny that still my hands did not have to move much to cover her back. Standing above her head, I pushed my hands up and down her back with more pressure, digging my thumbs into her flesh gently.

Because my hands were so large in comparison to her body, my fingers wrapped around the side of her torso, and I could feel the sides of her fleshy tits. As I got more courageous, my hands went right down to her lower back, pushing the top of her skirt slightly, with my fingers sometimes sliding underneath to catch the top of her bum. Lying face down, her bubble but popped up tuzla sınırsız escort so desirably that I couldn’t help but push the boundaries.

Soon, though, she asked if I could do her legs, and I moved to the other end of the table. I resumed my long stokes, rubbing the oil into her calves first and then her thighs. Her golden brown skin was shiny with oil and her flesh rippled beautifully beneath my fingers. Her legs certainly had more flesh than her tiny upper body. They were muscular and I could tell where they were tight from over-training. She moaned sometimes in pain as I pushed quite hard, but mainly in the heat of my rubbing, her legs were on fire.

Again, I pushed the boundaries as I went higher and higher on her thighs, pushing her skirt up from mid-thigh to a scrunched up mess on her ass. My big hands pushed up and the ends of my fingers collided with the bubbly flesh of her bum. Suddenly she reached up to her hips and fiddled with the top of her skirt. Then matter of factly she unclipped her skirt and folded it off her ass to reveal an all but bare teeny bum. Lifting it off the table she dragged the skirt out and tossed it aside, and did the same with her bra, leaving her only in her bright yellow G-string.

“Please continue, and don’t stop at the thighs, please,” she moaned through the hole in the table. I carried on rubbing her legs, and as she put it, didn’t stop at the thighs. My big hands moved over her smooth globes, almost completely covering her tight butt. This went on for some time as I enjoyed the rippling and bouncing of her ass and thighs, and she enjoyed the heat. I never stopped adding oil when needed.

I asked if her front needed any massage, and she eagerly flipped over to reveal the other side of her rockin’ body. Her small breasts, probably an A-cup, jiggled on her small frame, and a small yellow triangle was all that was keeping her from being completely naked. I started up top again, kneading her breasts and abdomen with long powerful strokes and circles. In one long stroke from her shoulders down over her titties, down the sides of her belly, I hooked her G-string in my fingers and continued down her body, taking all the modesty she had left. I then returned to her feet and legs, oiling them up and building up to her pussy, clearly leaking with anticipation.

I paid attention to all the area around her pussy, leaving her waiting and almost pushing her ass off the table to me. Her eyes looked at me in desperation, and when I plunged two fingers straight into her lips of pleasure, her eyes closed and her head rolled back. Her back arched off the table as her entire body tensed and spasmed in an immediate orgasm. I let her ride it out as I went to lock the door.

The feisty brunette was looking at me quivering, and didn’t have to tell me what she wanted. I squirted some oil over her cunt, much dripping over her asshole, and I squeezed two fingers in there again. I finger fucked her good while sucking on her clit, building another big orgasm within her. I put my third and fourth fingers into her hole with my palm on top of her pelvis face down. From this position, I rocked my hand up and down, whilst suckling on her little nipples, increasing the moaning coming from the girl. I built up speed and power, stretching her pussy with squishy squelchy sounds coming from my rapid vibrating. Adding more oil, I used all the muscles in my arm to increase the speed and shake my hand as hard and fast as I could. Her screams peaked and all of a sudden, a long squirt of girl-juice went across the room landing on the window. I continued, never letting down, and spray after spray came gushing from the girls little hole. Never before had I seen a girl come this hard, and it aroused me immensely.

The girls hips bucked out of control and her whole body shook violently in a massive orgasm. I held her down with an arm across her belly, as sound no longer came out of her open mouth. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she came down off her high. Her body still jolted uncontrollably, with all control over it now removed. She needed some time to settle down. Sitting close to her head, I took my cock out and started stroking it. I could hear her whispering some Spanish gibberish as she came back from heaven.

It was so hot to hear that I decided she had had enough time, turning her over onto her front and placed a triangular cushion beneath her pelvic region. Her cute ass now sat perched up for me to take, and I knelt up on the table behind her. With a large mirror on the wall, I could enjoy the very erotic view of my big body towering over her tiny one, as I entered into her slippery hole.

This forced her back to consciousness as she lifted her head in shock with the size of my member. It was a tight squeeze to get inside even with the earlier loosening, but with this girl face down bum up, the leverage I had was perfect. She tried to push herself up into doggy position, but I held her down with a big hand on her back. I rocked my hips in and out of her pussy, and she responded with a torrent of Spanish sentences. It was so hot to hear, only encouraging me further and soon we were in the midst of hot sex. I moved up into her asshole, much to her protest at first, but with plenty of oil all over her ass and hole, my big tool squeezed in and we were rocking with the same momentum.

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Stuck in August

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(Note to readers: The characters in this story have flaws. If you don’t like that, or interracial male-female-male group sex, with anal, or a male character with a bisexual history, you might want to read something else. All sex acts in this story are entered consensually, among characters who are all at least 18 years old. Thanks to vanmyers86 for beta-reading the first draft.)

When you met Hannah Robertson for the first time, you’d probably find her to be pleasant company. Let’s say you waited on her table at a restaurant, or visited her real estate office: She’d be as friendly as necessary for the encounter.

When you met her a few more times, you might see that you weren’t getting any closer.

Hannah didn’t talk about herself. She’d ask “How are you?” and maybe a question about something you had divulged about yourself earlier. If you answered that question, she’d stay with you on the topic until you paused. Then she would steer the discussion back to the reason for your meeting with her.

She wasn’t insincere. There were simply times when she had to make an effort to relate to people. When she didn’t have to make the effort, she wouldn’t, and kept to herself.

She had a sex life, but it was on her terms. Definitely NSA, because she didn’t want strings to be attached, but not FWB, because she sought benefits without close friendships.

This didn’t mean that she banged total strangers. She sought familiarity with her lovers, so she’d feel safe with them.

Familiarity, however, did not tell her everything.


She had been on her own for several days. Her mind was therefore tranquil, but her body was getting antsy. On this day, because she hadn’t lately worn her nerves raw dealing with anyone in her personal life, it was easy for her to be a nice and encouraging boss to the other five people in the office. She even chuckled at one of Darrell’s lame jokes.

But the day’s events soured her mood. A scheduled property inspection didn’t happen. Three of the open house yard signs used last weekend weren’t there when the others were picked up. Worst of all, the headquarters of the nationally-advertised realty firm connected to her operation sent a dour e-mail, with metrics purporting to show underperformance in Hannah’s office. By the time she closed up, she could no longer sustain her nice act.

As she drove home she wondered, Why the hell would somebody swipe an open house sign?

This failed to deflect her awareness of her streak of being alone. Her body wanted more than what she could do for herself, even as her mind insisted that the body still wouldn’t be satisfied fully on a date, when she may also have to put in an effort to get the guy’s rocks off.

At home, she checked messages and social media. Nobody was sniffing around in her direction.

Chiding herself for being desperate, she posted that she had an open calendar.

This got her no companionship for that night. A man named Brendan, with whom she had shared only some light chatting online, responded with a dinner-and-movie offer the night after tomorrow. She accepted, with a message she believed was light and upbeat. Then she got offline, resigned to addressing her own immediate needs.

She stripped, trying not to notice everything she considered wrong with her physical self. A life of desk-sitting, which she considered an advantage in her 20s and 30s, left her at age 46 low in energy and prone to muscle pains.

As she had done more times than she could count, she wondered if there existed a man whom she would welcome as a companion. Someone who’d be there when she needed him, but leave her alone the rest of the time. When, exactly, would she need him? And for what? She wasn’t happy, but had never seen evidence that she’d be happier with a guy in her life. What was happiness, anyway? If there was some condition, in adulthood, that was an improvement over the absence of annoyance, anxiety, pain, and dread, she hadn’t yet chanced upon it.

At 5′ 8″ and fairly big-boned, Hannah had excess weight that wasn’t obvious when she was fully dressed. Her ample bosom drew most men’s attention, and made excess elsewhere even less obvious. There was no fat yet in her face, but she was plain-featured. As for when she was undressed…

Any guy who wants it, she thought as she lubed a narrow-gauge dildo, is going to have to get it in the dark. She often resolved this, but never enforced it. In her experience, sex in total darkness was clumsy and disturbing.

She set pillows under her thighs so she could elevate them and bend her knees while on her back, and limit sciatic strain. She held up one jiggly breast, and set her other arm along her side as she carefully inserted the rounded cylinder in her cleft, and thus kept both boobs out of her armpits.

She licked her nipple, while she slid the dildo in and out. This hastened her arousal, fikirtepe escort but hurt her neck. She let her head drop back and moved her hand to her crotch. After the usual fruitless search for her G spot, she settled for rapid clit rubbing with the dildo held at full insertion. The orgasm was brief, but at least the spasms didn’t hurt her back and thighs.


Hannah’s father had been the boss, and he hired her after she got a business degree. From the words and actions of people in general, Hannah concluded that a local real estate office was considered okay as a family business, and the operation would have to be much larger before there would be grumblings of nepotism. Hannah nonetheless worked hard and smart, both to maintain the family’s prosperity and to uphold her self-respect.

Together, Hannah and her father had survived the mortgage debacle of 2008-9, working up to 80 hours a week and making the right moves at the right times. For a while this brought them closer, but eventually it wore them out, and they snapped at each other.

Her father was gleeful when he retired to Florida in 2011. The office was still in fragile condition, but the departure of her parents gave Hannah what she wanted from her close relatives: Less closeness. Her brother, who had moved out west, had three children, so Hannah was under no pressure from her mother to pair-bond and breed. The economy recovered and raised real estate values, so Hannah was under no pressure from her father to run the office differently. And Hannah got cheap winter vacations by crashing with her folks, each year enduring two weeks of closeness.

So now, the only person who had influence over Hannah Robertson’s life was Hannah Robertson. What she did with that influence was…nothing much.

Sometimes she challenged herself over her acceptance of the status quo. Shouldn’t she do more than go to work, get some no-strings sex once in a while, and live by herself? Yet this was her comfort zone, and she didn’t stray from it.

Hannah had never been in love. With no experience of it, she couldn’t even guess what that was like. She questioned whether she had the sort of emotions that other people had (or claimed to have), the sort that could make her give up her preferred isolation.


She and Brendan had agreed that he’d pick her up. She decided against insisting on them meeting at the restaurant, with two cars in use and each person able to depart alone if something bad happened between them in a public place. She chastised herself silently as she put on earrings, for behaving like a pushover. At least she hadn’t seen any red flags when she had looked into Brendan’s background.

She brushed her light brown hair as she waited. Many women her age basically gave up and got short, low-maintenance cuts. Because she had no gray yet, Hannah let the hair reach almost shoulder length. The hair spread in waves, and might be her best feature, apart from what swelled out from her rib cage.

Her phone chimed with an e-mail. One of her known quantities, Chet Guatreaux, gave her one of his flowery invitations to meet him, at her convenience. Deciding that it was too late to ditch Brendan, she sent back that she was free Saturday. Her feelings were on the down side of mixed, because she considered asking Chet for a favor that had nothing to do with hooking up.

When Brendan arrived, Hannah saw that he was fleshier and thinner-haired than he was in his profile pic. She wasn’t surprised, but was still brought down a bit.

Like most of the available straight guys her age, Brendan was divorced. Also like most of them, Brendan seemed to want someone to share remembrance of Gen-X stuff to which she had paid little attention. As a kid she had watched MTV, and for a while liked Michael Jackson, but gave that up when she decided he was starting to look inhuman. In her 20s and thereafter, she mostly let pop culture roll on without her, spending some of her leisure time on mystery novels, and not really getting a big charge out of them, either.

Brendan said he didn’t read much. He mentioned that he played self-help audio books in the car. Hannah was relieved that he didn’t elaborate, or share.

The food was nothing special. Neither was the movie. The sex completed the evening’s trifecta of meh.

She blew him only for foreplay, and she could see he made an effort not to be disappointed. He licked her pussy the same way, and didn’t seem to check if she was disappointed. The fuck was a one-and-done missionary, and he kept slobbering on her tits after he spewed, giving her time to finger her clit to a mildly pleasant tension release. His attention to her breasts helped, and she even told him that. She didn’t say that his weight on her caused some back pain, or that the most provocative thing that happened inside her was his withdrawal, as the condom wrinkled.

Despite her gebze escort admission, and his grinning response to it, neither made an effort to pursue a relationship. There was a kiss at the door, and the next day an exchange of private messages, with each saying that work was about to become really time-consuming.


The night before her date with Chet, Hannah’s other known quantity emerged from the woodwork. Treymont McKendrick sent her one of his heavily urban come-ons, full of what she assumed were samples of rap lyrics. Rather than mock him, and point out that he was a techie nerd from an unbroken home, she sent back a neutral response and a promise to get specific with him in a couple days. These trysts, with the two men she had lately bedded more than once, gave her hope that at least one of them would get her pleasure centers to stop complaining about how hungry they were.

Chet took her to his country club. Hannah, in a nice-enough dress with summery frills, saw no sign that the members and employees found anything untoward in a married man having lunch with a woman half his wife’s age. The rich are different, she thought, but they close ranks in support of their kind, just like the rest of us.

“Phoebe had one of her good days yesterday,” Chet said brightly, maintaining his fiction that Hannah cared. Hannah had never met his 90-year-old wife, nor would she. “She definitely enjoyed herself.” Chet showed her his phone, with a selfie taken at an exclusive nursing home. He looked quite dapper, next to the wheelchair-bound heiress who had something of a smile but unfocused eyes. Hannah gathered that the pic had gone also to social media, to show Phoebe’s relatives that Chet hadn’t abandoned his wife.

After lunch he took Hannah on a stroll through the club’s large and meticulously tended garden. At 73, he showed no physical limitations. He strode at a rate adjusted to a companion who was six inches shorter. He swung jauntily an ornate, silver-chased cane that he didn’t need, and he held his panama-hatted head high, relishing the breeze in his wide white mustache. Hannah was still mildly amused by his act, but envious of the garden. She sometimes thought she might enjoy gardening, but this bright floral display triggered thoughts of Why bother? and I am not worthy!

Chet had been attentive to her all along, but now turned to a topic he knew she wouldn’t want to discuss with others listening: “How is your work, Dear?”

She shrugged. “It’s what it usually is.” After a moment she added, “Corporate is grumbling about us. The office needs more activity.”

He glanced her way. “What would that entail?”

She looked up at him, taking a few seconds to choose words and not sound pathetic. “There doesn’t have to be a sudden flurry of buying and selling. But, if we were to get some new properties listed, maybe exclusives…”

He smiled, perhaps looking too sly because of the mustache. “I have friends who put second- and third-homes on the market sometimes, just to see if anyone bites on a huge asking price.”

“Nobody has to sell if they don’t want to,” she said quickly. “There’d be a listing fee, and some continuations, but no penalty if the seller drops the listing after three months.” She took a breath, then added, “Corporate likes big-ticket listings.”

His look was tender. “I think it’s terrible that you have to go through this. Bean-counters shouldn’t rule your life.” He unhooked his non-cane hand from her arm, pulled a wallet from his inner blazer pocket, and flipped it open to show that he still had the business card she had given him last year. “I’ll spread the word.”

She smiled in relief. “Thanks. And now, to prove you’re not my sugar daddy, I should go home alone.”

With the wallet returned to the pocket, he slid the free hand around her back. Leaning down, he whispered, “Whereas I intend to prove I’m not, with my prowess.”

Continuing their moment of fun, she said, “Okay, I’ll give you a chance.”


Chet maintained a suite at a nearby high-end hotel. Neither of them had ever broached the subject of screwing at the estate built by Phoebe Schrader’s long-deceased first husband. A chain of younger lovers, starting with trophy Phoebe, extended through Chet, to Hannah.

Hannah got a mild rush from undressing Chet, imagining what he’d been before. He was 6′ 2″ now, and bone/joint compression may have cost him an inch or two from his prime. He wasn’t stooped, and his carriage was silky. She suspected that he could move quickly if he had to. He had sent her his composite photos from when he was a sometime-working dancer, and links to two ’80s music videos in which he’d spun and jumped behind female pop stars.

She interpolated how he would have looked 25 years ago. Maybe a silver fox. Maybe not yet affecting the mustache. Hannah didn’t look that much better then, but at 21 she was more energetic, içerenköy escort and free of pain. Hannah wondered if banging him in 1995 would have distracted Chet from his project at the time, keeping his new bride Phoebe happy and gaining her power of attorney.

Even at this age, his prick maintained a good erection. It took time to develop, and wasn’t steel-rigid, but Hannah liked its surface flexibility, and didn’t mind his licking and fondling of her breasts, which produced the erection.

He treated her like a ravishing young mistress, and she admitted to herself that she relished her role. Never mind that she was probably his most worry-free option. She knew from their conversations that younger, prettier women he dated turned out to be golddiggers. Hannah’s silent commentary on this was: Takes one to know one.

His skilled cunnilingus took her most of the way to orgasm. She needed only about ten seconds of clit rubbing to finish herself. Chet had offered to do the rubbing, but she said he didn’t have to, while thinking that he wouldn’t do it properly.

She then fellated him for foreplay. They took turns because neither Hannah’s back nor Chet’s allowed them to stay in a sixty-nine for very long. The ensuing fuck was okay (he came, she didn’t), with Chet fingering her anus as he swiveled his putz in her pussy. A couple times before, she had let him in her rear end. His condomed prick had felt pretty good in her ass, but she’d still needed clit fingering to get herself off.

After today’s fuck, Chet wheedled her for more oral attention. She gave in, since he had eaten her out so diligently. But she expected to suck for a while and then finish him with her hands.

When she unmouthed his putz, he asked for more. And he did again, after more licking. He got whiny. Between his spread legs, she propped up on her elbows to make eye contact. She had never had to let him gunk her mouth before, and her back was getting achy.

“Does it matter that much?” she asked, sighing.

“Certainly! It’s always better inside!”

She offered, “How about between the tits?” She disliked the taste of semen, and the substance. Bad enough that she already had some of the fuck’s leftovers in her mouth. She swallowed just to get rid of them.

“That’s good, but it’s not a mouth!”

She lashed out, “So your meal ticket never blew you?”

He glared. “You leave Phoebe out of this!”

“Like she left you out of her throat?”

“Pleeeeeze!” he wailed. “The last mouth I came in was a man’s!”

She jerked back. A chill raced along her spine. She never thought she was homophobic, but maybe she hadn’t been in touch with her lizard brain. Her mind zoomed through consequences, likely or not. He’s alive and healthy, he must not have anything, oh no I swallowed!

She yanked her hand away. Semi-erect, the penis waved around above his belly.

She lurched to her feet, setting off back pain. She hurried to the bathroom.

On her way out she screamed about what a lover should reveal to a lover before exchanging fluids. He screamed back, but she didn’t process that as strings of words.


Whatever opinion she might have of gay men, she had to concede that her apparently-somewhat-gay man took forthright action. Before the end of the day Chet sent her a link and an access code to his own current test results, showing that he was clean of STIs and anything that could instigate them. He also sent her a pre-paid voucher to a reputable, confidential clinic in case she wanted to get tested, and a cash code to cover her cab fare when she’d bolted from the hotel. His attached text was terse, with no blubbering.

She sent this back:


She was too upset to contact Treymont, let alone set up a date.


The next day, Hannah had calmed to the point where she could put her incident with Chet in perspective. He had never been dishonest or evasive on anything else. While they were still e-chatting, before their first meetup, he told her that he was married, and that his wife was in severe dementia with no prospect of recovery. On that basis, Hannah decided to start dating him. Chet had also not promised, nor even hinted, that he would marry Hannah once Phoebe died, and Hannah had never pursued (or wanted) that.

Conversely, he had never said anything about having a history of sex with men. Hannah honestly didn’t know how she would have responded if he had divulged that. Maybe if he’d mentioned it before they were intimate, she would have dealt with it (while insisting on no fluid contact, except maybe between her breasts). In the abstract, she thought she had nothing against bisexuality, although her immediate reaction suggested otherwise.

However upstanding he’d been in most of their dealings, Hannah knew that Chet was undeniably a gigolo who had cashed in. Maybe, thirty years ago, he and the still-alert Phoebe agreed, in full, open sincerity, on how their marriage would work. Maybe he provided companionship and some amount of sex, and she let him inherit her wealth and sleep around. Hannah, however, knew nothing about that, and didn’t expect to learn such details.

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