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It was nearly ten o’clock when I slid the key into my front door lock. I had left the precinct around seven but then stopped at a bar called the Cherry Stem. Always good to see what the completion was doing. Of course completion was more than an exaggeration. The Panama Club was little more than a dive where The Cherry Stem was a posh uptown lounge but with similar minded regulars.

I pushed my door open to the sound of laughter coming from the television. As I entered the small foyer, Charlie’s head appeared from around the end of the sofa. She watched as I kicked my shoes off and let my jacket slide off my shoulders. I dropped it on a chair and went into the living room. Charlie had apparently taken my advice regarding a shower. She looked fresh scrubbed and she had also managed to find a tee shirt and a pair of boxers from my bedroom dresser.

The sight of the little nymph setting there with her smooth youthful legs crossed on top of the coffee table made the idea of her snooping through my drawers palatable. I spied an open bottle of pinot on the counter and then noticed a glass setting beside Charlie.

After pouring a glass for myself I said. “You’re too young to drink.” I sat down beside her.

She grinned. “You going to arrest me?”

I sipped the wine. “I already tried that.” I replied. I picked up the remote and turned the TV off.

“I was watching that.” She said.

“And now you’re not.” I answered.

“You always going to be a bully?” She said.

“Is that my tee shirt?” I ignored her criticism.

“You want it back?” She grinned again.

“I do.” I said. Charlie turned toward me. She crossed her hands and grabbed the hem of the tee and pulled it over her head. She was so petite as to look slightly masculine. Her breasts were small but with stiff little nipples that made her appear to be in constant arousal. I took a moment to admire her. “Those are mine too.” I added.

She looked down at her crotch even though she had to know what I meant. “I’m not wearing panties.”

“What, you couldn’t find any you liked in my dresser?” I asked.

“I just didn’t bother.” She was acting like she was embarrassed or about to pout.

I put the fingers of my right hand under her chin. Looking into her eyes, I whispered. “Are you staying the night?”

She hesitated so I slipped a finger into the top of the boxers. “If you are, you won’t need these.”

She leaned against the back of the sofa and lifted her little butt high enough that she could push the boxers down to her knees. She let them fall to the floor and kicked her feet free. She looked down at them laying on the carpet. “You really want them?”

I leaned in and softly pressed my lips to hers. I love kissing women even though I don’t do it often enough. I really don’t know why.

My tongue was exploring her mouth when I felt her fingers slid between my legs, searching out my crotch. I laid over, taking her with me. We settled on our sides, facing each other. I spent the next fifteen minutes, my mouth spreading saliva over her cheeks and neck. Her fingers relentless but unable to lower my zipper enough to slide her hand inside.

“Go turn the light out.” I whispered and her hand left me without protest. I watched the little beauty wiggle her way to the switch and return to me. I had undone my belt and the pesky zipper. “Take them off.” I instructed as I started to unbutton my blouse. She pulled the slacks down my legs and over my feet. I opened my blouse and unhooked the front clasp of my bra. My breasts would also be considered smallish even though they were twice the size of hers.

Charlie settled back onto the sofa beside me. I kissed her. Her mouth was soft, lips cool. The fingers of my right hand laced into her hair and I guided those lips to my breast. She took my nipple as if I was giving her a gift. Sucking, licking, she started to make a sweet, barely audible, humming sound.

I let her pleasure me, alternating between my breasts. I could guide her effortlessly with the slightest bit of pressure from my fingertips. My pussy greeted her, wet and wanting, when her fingers finally found their way inside the top of my panties.

I nevşehir escort immediately realized her plan when her lips left my tit and began kissing along my ribs. My hands, under her armpits, halted her progress. I lifted her easily. My maneuver was to roll onto my back and ease her back to me. I found her mouth and my tongue went deep inside. Her own tongue began greedily jousting with mine. I know she was taken by surprise. I had never before spent any time attending to her. I had all but demanded that she be the one to please me. I think I even surprised myself.

But, I had been considering this for some time. “Come to me.” I whispered and pulled her forward until I could kiss her tummy. My hands slipped between her legs, I spread them, pushing them to either side of me. With my hands cupping her ass cheeks, I eased her the rest of the way forward. I could feel her shiver.

The first hint of her sex, her aroma, was hot, sweet, earthy. It forced my thoughts back to my own high school days. The time after class when my music teacher took me into the coatroom, lifted her dress, removed her panties and told me to lay on the floor. She lowered herself to me without any other instruction. Her fragrance was very similar as my tongue slid along the folds of her labia, any labia for the very first time. I would find myself willingly in that room many times before graduation. Just as I found myself in her bed on many afternoons over the following summer.

Charlie’s pussy was delicate, nearly hairless without the need of a razor. I raised my head and kissed it. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the sofa arm. I felt her legs press outwards, opening herself, lowering herself onto my mouth. She was grunting as she began working her hips. She was experiencing something new, something wanton. I ate her without effort. I was aroused by it. I could feel my own pussy seeping juices. She was climaxing right there, right above me, she was shaking and I swear I could hear her whimper. As her orgasm waved over her, my mouth was being flooded with her sex. I lapped and licked and consumed her.

I was not sure when she finally calmed down. She was laying forward, her arms now dangled to her sides. She was not moving but I could feel her breathing, every rise and fall of her abdomen. She was peaceful and I hated to interrupt her contentment.

My hand patted her butt, cupped her ass cheek. I squeezed gently. That was when she started giggling. Softly at first and then with more commitment. She tried to ease herself down to lay her head on my chest but she was week and disoriented and she just slid off onto the floor. When I looked down, she was sort of pinned between the sofa and the table and still laughing.

As I looked down at her, she had never looked more adorable. “You want to share?”

Her eyes were moist. They shined in the darkness. “I.” She started. “I love you.”

My hand traced along her chest, her neck, over her chin. I ran the tip of a finger over her mouth. “You might want to think about that.”

She shook her head. “It has nothing to do with tonight.” She said. “Nothing at all. It’s just that this is the first time I felt like I could tell you.”

“Yea, well, go start the shower. I smell like pussy.” She crawled to her knees and slowly stood. As she wiggled out of the room I worried that I might have just fucked up a really good thing. I stood up, shrugged and said to the dark room. “Fuck it.”

It was Sunday afternoon when I came out of the den after dealing with the monthly chore of bills and paperwork. I checked the clock. It was two thirty. Charlie was laying on the sofa still in what had become her normal house wear, tee and panties. “Go get dressed.”

She looked at me and smiled. “Anything special?”

“Those lime green shorts might be fun.” Charlie sort of danced down the hall and disappeared. I was in jeans and a tee with sneakers. I went to the cabinet in the foyer, unlocked the top drawer and removed a small 38 with a belt clip holster. With that attached, I removed a black leather jacket from the closet. It concealed the gun quite well.

Charlie bounced down the hall smiling. nevsehirescort.net She looked good enough to eat in that outfit. The shorts were just short enough and tight enough to start you imagining what was inside. “Where we going?”

“The club.” I said. Charlie paused. I had never taken her or even allowed her anywhere near the place.

Surprisingly she said nothing more about it until we were in the parking lot. “So, why now?” She asked.

I got out of the SUV and walked around in front of it, waited. She slid out and came up beside me. I thumbed the key remote and the door locks engaged with a beep. “You want to be a part of my life? I figure you might want to know exactly what that entails.” I ran my arm around her waist and the two of use strolled out to the street and in the front entrance of the Panama Club.

Jade was setting on a hard stool next to the door. She was there to collect a ten dollar admission fee. We didn’t start the cover charge as a profit center but to keep out the vagrants and homeless from coming in and sleeping in a dark corner. I patted her knee, she was already in costume which didn’t consist of much. “This is Charlie.” I said. “She is going to be working here.”

Jade smiled at Charlie and said “Nice to meet you, Charlie.” Then she looked at me and winked.

I moved in through the darkness and over to the bar. Charlie was tugging at my hand. I leaned on the bar top and looked at her. “What?”

“Working here?” She asked.

I leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. “Why? You don’t think you could shake that little ass in time with the jukebox?”

“Eva, please.” Charlie whispered.

Carla, our newest girl was behind the bar. She walked down to stand in front of us. “Two Jack black’s neat.” I said. Carla went to pour our drinks. Charlie was looking at something behind me. When I turned, Jenna had come down the stairs and headed our way. Carla put the drinks in front of us and waited.

I looked at her. “You doing okay?”

“Yea.” She said. “Very well actually. Thanks.” I nodded as she moved back up the bar.

Jenna stopped between Charlie and I. “You were right.” She said. “A real sweetie.” She had her hand around Charlie’s shoulders. I could tell Charlie was nervous but was doing a good job of hiding it from strangers. Jenna looked at me, back at Charlie and back to me. “You say she’s management material?” Jenna shrugged. “Good with me. Come up to the office before you leave.” She disappeared back up the stairs.

“Uh, management? What?” Charlie.

I smiled and pushed her drink toward her. I held mine out and she finally picked hers up. We clinked, I downed mine and she took a small sip of hers. She coughed.

“You need a way to earn money without hustling on the street.” I waited.

“I like the hustle.” She offered. “I’m good at it.”

“One of these days you are not going to get away from a group of pissed college boys.” I said.

“When that happens.” I brushed her cheek. “You will get hurt, I will be very sad and then I will kill some fucking smart ass college boys.” I pulled her close. “Please don’t make me sad.”

I was surprised when she picked up her drink and downed what was left. She placed the glass on the bar and looked at me. She shrugged. “So, what the fuck does a manager in a strip bar do?”

I put my arm around her, letting my hand slide down her back until I was cupping her ass. I patted. “That’s my girl.”

“One thing though.” She said leaning across the bar. “Are the drinks free to the manager?”

“Yes.” I whispered.

“Excuse me.” Charlie called down the bar. Carla looked up. “Two more.” She turned around, leaned back and placed her elbows on the top of the bar. “I can fucking do this.”

“Fuck.” I said. She looked at me. “I’ve created a monster. A hot little fucking monster.”

We had emptied our second drink when three of the girls came in the front entrance. They all looked almost normal in street clothes. When they passed us heading toward the back dressing room I called out to one named Cherrie. She looked at me. “When you get dressed, take the door and tell Jade to come to the office.

After they were gone, I said. “Come on, I’ll show you the brains of this place.”

When we entered Jenna’s office, she was standing in front of her desk. The hot little blonde was there and Jenna had her arms around her waist. Her lips were roaming along the girl’s neck. She stopped long enough to look my way. “You have horrible timing.”

She pushed the blonde away and the girl went over and sat on the sofa. Jenna took her seat behind her desk. She looked at me. “She isn’t going to be barging in here like you do, is she?”

“Might be better to ask me.” Charlie surprised me once more as she spoke up for herself. “I don’t really care what you do with this one. I’m happy to knock whenever I come up here or we can do the necktie on the doorknob thing.” She shrugged at Jenna then she smiled at me.

She went over to the sofa and sat down next to the blonde. “What’s your name?”

“Beth.” She said.

Charlie placed a hand on her thigh. She slowly ran it along her leg letting her fingers brush her G-string covered crotch. Then she whispered. “You dance too or just do the boss?”

“I dance.” Beth said.

Charlie stood up. “Try to keep your two obligations separate.” Charlie got up and walked back beside me. She looked at Jenna. “I’ll try not to crowd your space.”

Jenna grinned. She looked at me. “You are right.” She said. “She is defiantly management material.”

About that time I heard Jade coming up the stairs. I pointed that direction. “We will be down the hall.” I took Charlie’s arm and we went out of the office just as Jade reached the top step. I just tilted my head and she followed the two of us. About three doors down, I opened a door and guided Charlie inside. Then I stepped back so Jade could enter.

“Jade.” I said. “This is Charlie our new manager.”

Jade nodded. “That’s cool.” She said.

“I need you to get to know her, Look after her, protect her.” I said.

“And?” She smiled at me.

“Yea.” I nodded. “And.” I looked at Charlie. I’ll be down stairs. When you two come down, I want both of you to know who is in charge. And Charlie, I want you to know you can depend on her.”

Jade unhooked her G-string letting it drop and then reached for Charlie’s shorts. “Well boss lady, let’s just get you unwrapped.” She kissed Charlie’s cheek as she slid her hands into the waist band. “I have a feeling that I am going to like this as much as you.”

It was an hour and a half before the two girls came into the main room. They spied me at a table talking to Judge Maxwell. I waved Jade off and she disappeared into the dressing room. Charlie settled into a seat beside me. She was as sated as I had ever seen her. I was almost jealous. Almost.

One of the girls set a shot in front of Charlie letting her fingers brush her shoulder as she turned away. Strippers and hookers have an interesting way of showing acceptance.

“Well she is a real cutie.” The judge said looking at Charlie. Charlie took a sip of her whiskey. She was really in another place.

“Judge, this is our new manager, Charlie.”

“Not a dancer?”

“Sorry.” I offered.

“Yes. Me too.” The judge said. She held out a hand and a girl just passing stopped and settled onto the judge’s lap. “Not to worry.” She said.

Charlie was quite while we walked outside and climbed into the SUV. When I looked over at her she was grinning. “You couldn’t have warned me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I said.

“What do you think about Jade?” I asked.

“That girl needs to be on a leash.” She said but she was smiling, really smiling.

“Well she works everyday but Monday so set your own schedule. And that goes for the club as well. Just make sure someone knows how to find you when you are away.”

“What’s the story with Beth?” Charlie asked.

“No story.” I Said. “She dances and hustles drinks like the others. She goes with a customer when they offer, if she wants.”

“But about Jenna?” Charlie said.

“Just that.” I offered. “Jenna happens to like pretty little blondes.” I shrugged. “Beth will be downstairs by the time the evening crowds arrive.” I patted her on her thigh. Charlie scooted closer toward me. “I’m sure you will figure out a way to share some of her free time if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t” She stopped.

I smiled at her. “The fuck you weren’t”.

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

It was hot! Not the kind of heat one would feel in most areas of the country in July, but the humid, oppressive heat that was common in any part of South Florida except the beaches. That’s what it was like when Josh stepped out the rear door of the nondescript concrete block house in the Northwest part of Fort Lauderdale. The house had been built in the forties by a family who had aspired towards farming without success and now existed as a lonely rental structure a good three miles from the center of town just a few hundred feet from the North branch of New River. Josh had to laugh at the label of ‘river’ because from what he could see it wasn’t more than twenty-five feet wide. At least not in the area he was familiar with. He had always felt that the river should have been named ‘Gator Creek’ due to the large number of alligators and snakes populating the water near the house.

Their presence in the black water of the river had provided Josh with un-counted earnings when he was in his early teens by recovering misguided golf balls of the many golfers in the Wilton Manors golf course that bordered the road across from where he lived. Josh would hang out near the green located at the river’s edge and when he would hear the tell-tale ‘plunk’ of a ball hitting the water, he’d wait for the irritated golfer to walk up to the green, take one look at the dark waters and mumble about his lost golf ball. Josh would quickly take advantage of the situation and volunteer to recover the ball. For a small tip, of course, which would usually result in an easily earned dollar or so. He had learned quickly that if he made a lot of noise when he entered the water he had nothing to fear from the populace of the dark denizens. He had received a scare one time when a water moccasin had wrapped around his leg, but then skittered away without sinking it’s fangs in Josh’s leg. Another time Josh did suffer a painful nip from a blue crab but the pain from the claw’s pinch was short-lived when the golfer had tipped him five dollars to compensate for his minor pain. It might have been a minor pinch, but Josh had played it to the full, screaming in agony as he pried open the crab’s claw.

Joshua was just eighteen that summer of 1959 in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He was deeply tanned from his days in the sun, his hair bleached almost white, his brilliant blue-green eyes contrasting with his sunburnt features. His appearance had always made him popular with girls in school, beginning even in the girl-hating early elementary grades and continuing until that June when he graduated. Once Josh began to take notice of the opposite sex as something other than individuals to make fun of or antagonize, he often took advantage of their girlish flirtations, making it with those who would and playing with those who wouldn’t. With his many conquests, Josh felt he knew all about making love to a woman, or so he thought.

Josh wasn’t looking forward to the chore his mom had given him that morning before she left for work at the restaurant down at the corner of 16th street and St. Andrews but, with a resigned sigh, he stepped off the rear porch and walked up to the Poinciana tree and pulled the old mower out into the opening. As he filled the mower with gas, he looked out at the back yard and shook his head. As usual, the grass had thrived in the heat and summer showers and Josh knew that he was in for at least a couple hours of hard mowing, often having to re-crank a stalled mower when the thick grass would cause it to choke.

Josh pushed the old mower to a bare spot in the back yard and pulled the starter cord, once, twice, three times, and then the mower started, sputtering to life, coughing, then roaring, the muffler-less motor loud enough to wake the dead. Josh hoped that their neighbor wasn’t still in bed, but he wanted to get an early start on his chore so he could go to the beach later with his best friend. He had waited until ten in the morning; certain Mrs. Davis would be up by then. He liked their neighbors, particularly Mrs. Davis, because she was always nice to him, giving him whatever treat she had made for the day, always friendly and cheerful. Not that Mr. Davis wasn’t friendly, for he was, and he often would let Josh ride their old mare on the weekends when he was home. The Davis’ didn’t have any children and they seemed to have adopted Josh in their minds, paying him more attention than Josh’s brothers or sisters.

Josh thought no more about his neighbors as he pushed the mower through the tall grass, having to constantly back up and go forward again to keep the old motor from being choked by the dew-wettened grass. He was shirtless, wearing just a pair of swimming trunks, the oppressive heat already making his tanned body run with sweat, rivulets coursing down his almost-hairless chest, down his backbone past the waistband of his trunks, to tickle the sensitive skin between his muscular butt cheeks. Often, Josh would stop to wipe the blinding sweat from his forehead with an old washcloth he carried, but the relief ankaraescortbayansitesi.com would only be temporary in the sultry weather, as his exertion brought forth more sweat.

Josh was just mowing the last strip of weeds and grass in the back yard, a portion of which was also the neighbor’s back yard, when he heard someone call his name. The voice was coming from the neighbor’s house, a low building that at one time was a feed barn and had been converted into living quarters. Josh couldn’t see the person who called him, although he recognized Mrs. Davis’ voice. He cut off the mower and stepped closer to the building so he could see what she wanted, having to step under the overhang of the metal shutters that hung out from the building, completely shading the interior.

When he got within a couple of feet of the window, Josh saw Mrs. Davis standing there, her head and shoulders visible above the window sill. “Hi, Mrs. Davis,” he greeted. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, no, Josh. I was awake. I just wanted to thank you for cutting our part of the yard,” she replied in her soft voice as she peered out at the profusely sweating teen.

Josh wiped his head with the washcloth. “Glad to, Mrs. Davis. I had to do our’s, anyway.” Josh moved a step closer to better see her shadowy face.

“You poor dear,” Mrs. Davis said in her sympathetic tone. “You’re soaked with perspiration. It’s too hot out there to be mowing.”

Josh nodded, “yes, ma’am, it is, but I’m finished now.” He studied her mature face in the dim light, wanting to verify that she hadn’t been asleep when he was mowing. He had always been struck by the older woman’s elegant looks, even though she was about the same age as his mother. Her hair was silver, without even a hint of color, and he wondered how a woman in her thirties could turn gray-headed. Not that it subtracted from her looks, because she was quite attractive, with soft, rounded features, a tiny nose, and full lips, her skin like alabaster, appearing as smooth as silk.

She seemed to be studying his face a moment before she asked, “would you like some lemonade, Josh? It’ll help cool you off.”

The idea of a cold glass of lemonade made Josh perk up. “Yes, ma’am, that would be real nice.”

Mrs. Davis took one step back from the window and began to turn as she said over her shoulder, “come on around, Josh. The door is unlocked.”

Josh started to do as she said just as Mrs. Davis walked away from the window and he then saw that she was completely naked. Not a stitch of clothing, not even shoes or slippers. Josh couldn’t help but stare at her naked backside as she walked toward their small kitchen. Her body was well rounded with a small waist, and her pale buttocks jiggled as she crossed the room on very shapely legs, with just a hint of wrinkling skin at the very top of her thighs.

Josh stepped closer to the window and stared, balanced on his toes, ready to duck should the nude woman feel his entranced stare, watching her naked body until she turned and entered the kitchen. He had seen more than one girl naked before, but this was the first time he had seen a real woman live and in the nude! The fact that Mrs. Davis was close to his mother’s age didn’t prevent his manhood from responding, rapidly pushing against the leg of his swim trunks.

Josh hurriedly went around the building to their back door and saw that Mrs. Davis had the door wide open, guarded only by a rickety screen door. He knew the back door was right next to the kitchen, so he gingerly knocked on the aging wood frame, not sure if he should walk right in with his neighbor completely naked.

Mrs. Davis called out as Josh knocked, “come on in, Josh. It’s cooler in here.”

His palms sweating from nervousness, Josh slowly opened the door, wincing at the sound of the creaking spring as he swung it wide enough to enter. He held the door as it closed, not wanting the spring to slam it shut, then turned to his right to enter the kitchen. There was Mrs. Davis, standing in the middle of the tiny room, glass of lemonade held in her outstretched hand, still naked, and smiling at the blonde teenager. Josh couldn’t control his eyes as they wandered over her body, fascinated by the hairy bush of dark hair that came almost half way up her white-fleshed belly, proving that Mrs. Davis was not always gray-haired. His eyes wandered of their own accord up from the bushy mound, over the barely noticeable roll of flesh in the middle of her belly, traversing up to her very generous breasts. Josh had never realized that his neighbor had such large tits, usually only seeing her in her husband’s oversize, button-up shirts worn outside of faded jeans. But they were large, and in the dim light, he could make out tiny stretch marks that years of gravity had placed in the sides of the ivory globes, and could even see the trace of blue veins running under the surface of the tightly stretched skin. Slightly below center, pointing, it seemed, at his crotch, were dark pink nubs sticking out from a brownish background of wrinkled flesh like two bug eyes, searching, but not seeing.

Josh’s quick appraisal of her body didn’t go unnoticed by Mrs. Davis, as she offered an apology for her nakedness. “I apologize for not having any clothes on, Josh, but it’s so hot and I always feel better not wearing anything inside the house. It makes me feel so much cooler in this weather.”

Josh stuttered a little, embarrassed that his stare had been so obvious. “I-I, I’m s-sorry, Mrs. Davis, I d-d-didn’t mean to l-look.”

“Oh, shush, Josh. It’s okay.” She handed him the glass of lemonade, then added, “Besides, I find it flattering that you look at me that way.” She smiled at the flush showing in Josh’s face beneath the tan, inwardly touched by his innocence.

They both consciously observed a minute of silence, Josh standing there nervously, looking everywhere except at the pretty woman in front of him, Mrs. Davis standing relaxed, her arms now crossed under her breasts, the soft globes resting on her forearms, the nipples now seeming to stare at the embarrassed boy. Breaking the silence, Mrs. Davis stepped past Josh, speaking across her shoulder to him, “just a minute, Josh. I’ll be right back.”

Josh’s head turned to watch her walk away, his eyes again examining her nude back. Realizing he was staring again, Josh quickly snapped his eyes back to stare at the opposite wall of the kitchen, hoping his neighbor hadn’t felt his eyes on her back.

Josh didn’t hear Mrs. Davis’ bare feet as she walked up behind him. The first he knew she had returned to the room was when he felt her hand on his shoulder, then the coarseness of a towel as she wiped away the sweat that was dripping down the small of his back. “You’re all wet with sweat, Josh. Let me dry it off for you.” She held the towel in one hand as she rubbed it up and down his back, her other hand still resting on his shoulder, but caressing Josh’s firm, muscular skin.

Josh gulped some more lemonade, subconsciously aware of the sensuality of the naked woman’s touch while comparing it to the touch of his mother when she used to wipe his face or clean his ears when he was a little boy. But this was different; his neighbor’s touch was causing a stirring in his loins, a tingly feeling in his youthful balls. The feeling heightened as Mrs. Davis worked her way around to the front of his body, pushing his arms out of the way as she wiped his chest. Josh tried to not stare at her quivering breasts as she wiped his chest from side to side, but to no avail. His eyes were locked on the lily-white skin shaking from side to side with each movement of her arms. His mind began to wonder what it would be like to squeeze those fantastic mounds, to suck on the tiny nipples, and his body began to respond to those thoughts, his dick beginning to push against the material of his trunks. Feeling his reaction, Josh immediately transferred his thoughts to other things; the beach, his friends, even school. Nothing worked, as his organ continue to push against its confines, seeking freedom, release. Josh’s attempts at controlling his young body’s urging became fruitless as Mrs. Davis knelt down and began to wipe his legs, beginning at his deck shoes and running up to where his short swim trunks met his muscular thighs. Sweat popped out on his head as Mrs. Davis began to dry between his legs and Josh closed his eyes in a silent prayer that the kneeling, nude woman wouldn’t see the beginning of his erection straining against the thin material.

If she saw the evidence of Josh’s excitement, Mrs. Davis gave no hint of it as she rose from the floor, apparently satisfied with her drying of his body. Josh gave a sigh of relief when Mrs. Davis didn’t say anything about his emerging manhood, merely taking the empty glass from his hand and sitting it on the kitchen table. “Do you want any more, Josh?”

Josh could only shake his head, not trusting his voice; afraid it would betray him, as he wondered how to make a graceful exit without offending his neighbor. But Mrs. Davis wasn’t finished with her drying task after all. Taking Josh’s hand, she pulled him through the cluttered living room to a room beyond, which turned out to be a bedroom. Puzzled, Josh could only dart his eyes around the room, furnished with an unmade brass bed and large dresser with a mirror hung crookedly above it.

Mrs. Davis led Josh to the bed and gently pushed him down to sit on the edge as she said in a comforting tone, “you’re still a little wet, Josh, and I can’t let you go like that. I’ll finish drying you and then you can go.” She put the towel on his sweat-slicked head and began to briskly rub his hair. Josh could see her body from the waist down as she tended to his head, rubbing it like she was doing hand laundry. The view caused Josh’s loins to stir again as his eyes focused on the triangular patch of curly, dark brown hair that disappeared between her legs. Her rubbing motion was causing the cellulite in her thighs to shake back and forth, giving the sensual appearance of her hips growing out and down, as though inviting him to lie on them.

Finished with his hair, Mrs. Davis then lightly, but firmly, pushed Josh back on the bed so he was lying across it, his feet still touching the floor. She got up on the bed beside him and began to rub his stomach with the towel as she knelt at his side, her full breasts dangling over him, hypnotizingly bobbing as she dried the already-dry skin of his washboard stomach. Josh couldn’t resist her attentions, beginning to become lost in her touch and her warmth, the sweet smell of her body hovering over him. Even when he felt her hand push the towel inside the tight band of his trunks, Josh could only lie there and submit to her ministrations.

Josh was shocked when he felt Mrs. Davis begin to work his swimming suit down over his hips, but made no move to stop her, enjoying her touch and wondering at what point she would stop her task of ‘drying’ him off. He felt the soft hands as they slipped inside the tight elastic of the trunks on each side of his hips and slide the suit to his knees, revealing his privates, his thickening dick springing to a position pointing at his head when it was freed from the restraining material. Josh closed his eyes, not wanting to see the older woman’s face as she peered at his genitals, feeling embarrassed, but at the same time, arousal, at the thought she was now seeing him naked. His stomach involuntarily flinched when he felt her bare palm rest on his belly just above his pubic hairs and begin to stroke the flat area from side to side, no longer using the towel as a pretense.

A warm hand dropped to the nut sack propped between his closed legs and gently rubbed the tightened egg-size appendage. Josh felt the skin of his sack tighten as the hand moved up to the base of his rapidly hardening prick, gently sliding up the underside until it reached the head. He felt a finger lightly stroke the exposed head and the responding dick jump from her touch.

Mrs. Davis laughed, “mmm, it seems to like that,” as she tested its reflex again with her finger, laughing softly as his dick one again responded with a jerk.

Josh felt the examining woman’s body move on the bed, the mattress yielding and then springing back to shape as Mrs. Davis got off the bed. Then he felt her pulling his swim suit over his knees and feet, followed by her tenderly lifting his legs and turning him on the bed, not assisting her in her efforts for fear of appearing to take her actions for granted. When she had straightened his body on the bed, Josh felt the mattress yield again from her weight and cracked his eyes open into narrow slits to spy on her as she got on the bed beside him, quickly closing them when she began to lie down. He felt her very warm body as she rested beside him on her side, their skin barely touching, and then her now-hot hand return to his belly, stroking the thin line of blonde hair that ran from his pubic hair to his navel, the top of her hand brushing against his dick as she stroked downward.

Josh kept his eyes closed, enjoying his seemingly detached role as the woman’s plaything, hoping she wouldn’t stop. Mrs. Davis’ caressing of his body continued, her hand now stroking the length of the underside of his dick, feeling her fingers examine the bulging tube that ran from his nuts to the tip of the swollen head, tracing the rope-like veins that circled the hardened meat. He couldn’t believe the heat that emanated from the naked woman as he felt her leg rest across his legs, her belly come into contact with the flesh of his hip, the brush of her full tits against his arm.

After what seemed both an eternity and only a few seconds, the warm hand left his genitals and rested in the middle of his chest. He heard her soft voice and opened his eyes. “Would you like to make love to me, Josh?” Her leg on his moved up and down suggestively, the softness of her skin tantalizing his, as he turned his head to look at Mrs. Davis, shocked by her question.

“I, I don’t know, Mrs. Davis.” Realizing how dumb that sounded, Josh quickly blurted, “I mean, I mean I don’t know if I should, ma’am. I-I-I, how about Mr. Davis?”

The blue eyes looked at him adoringly through heavy lids as she smiled, “I think you should call me Doris, Josh. ‘Mrs.’ makes me feel old. Do you think I’m old, Josh?”

Josh stuttered again, “n-no, ma’am. I m-mean, no, Doris. You’re not old. I think you’re beautiful.” Josh was embarrassed by his stuttering and couldn’t understand what had happened to his usual self-assuredness when he was with a girl.

Her warm smile shined on him again, “thank you, Josh. I think you are, too. You’re such a beautiful boy. You have such a beautiful body.” As though proving her statement, she began to stroke his chest and stomach again with the palm of her hand, causing the heat inside of his naked body to rise to the surface, to bond with her hot hand. Looking down at his erection as she propped herself on one arm, Mrs. Davis invited once more, “I want to make love with you, Josh. Don’t worry about Bill, he’s on the road to Kansas right now and won’t be back until Saturday.”

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

In Chapter One of this story Josephine told us about her and her best friend Salma’s plan to show Salma’s father what Jo’s father already knew, that daughters are for fucking. In Chapter 2 Salma takes over as the narrator and lets us know how it works out.

I appreciate the comments about the propriety of using the singular “Daddy’s” regardless of whether I was speaking about one or both of Josephine and Salma’s fathers. My aim was to treat “Daddy’s” as a title, the way the two daughters talked about their fathers, sort of an honorific. It felt sexier to me. Feel free to let me know if you think I succeeded.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

On the way home from watching the soccer match with Jo and Mr. Robertson I lay my hand on Daddy’s thigh, as if unaware of his erection inches away. What would happen if I touched it? Would it scare him off? I was tempted, but I wanted Daddy for the rest of my life, best to be patient.

“Daddy, I was having trouble with a couple of problems in calculus, can you help me when we get home?”

“Of course Princess.”

“I like it when you call me that Daddy. That’s what I want, to be your Princess.”

“That’s what you are, my forever Princess.”

* * * * *

I pushed my tablet and calculator across the coffee table to Daddy; his eyes flickered briefly on my breasts, braless in my sun dress. We discussed my homework, I occasionally leaned forward and entered data in my tablet or calculator, giving him plenty more opportunities to look; his glances grew more frequent, less furtive. Aroused, my breasts flushed, my nipples became erect. Daddy responded, his stomach growled, his cock hardened. Finally I told Daddy I understood, walked around the table, thanked him, hugged him, pressing my body to his, then hurried to my room to masturbate.

Later I checked Daddy’s waste basket, he had also.

* * * * *

“Daddy, Jo and I found a place in the back of the state park. It’s private, perfect for a picnic. She’s going to ask Mr. Robertson, would you like to go?”

“Of course Princess.”

* * * * *

Jo and I packed lunch, grapes, cole slaw, and our awesome Thai Chicken Salad, and the four of us rode our bicycles to the park. The nearby stream was clean and secluded – there’d be no unwanted eyes on us – and Jo and I peeled off our shorts and tee-shirts, revealing our tiny bikinis, got into the water, swam a bit, splashed each other, talked our fathers into joining us. They took off their shirts to my and Jo’s delight – they were well built and nicely muscled – waded into the water; the four of us explored, played, laughed.

Afterwards, settled on our blankets, we let the sun dry our bodies, then Jo and I broke out lunch, insisting our Daddy’s play sultan, lie on the ground, heads on our laps, as we dropped grapes into their mouths.

That night we watched a movie in Mr. Robertson’s home theater, Jo and I cuddled in our fathers’ arms.

I was jealous. Jo was playing with her father’s thing.

* * * * *

Daddy and I were going to the movies. He came downstairs, stopped when he noticed my discriminating look.

“What is it Princess?”

“With those pants, I’m thinking either your maroon or teal shirt.”

“You mean the red and green ones?”

I nodded.

“I wondered if one of them would look better.”

I said, “Let’s see.”

Daddy no longer thought anything of me entering his bedroom while he pulled a shirt off his magnificent chest, of my commenting on how much I liked its light smattering of hair, then trying on several things as I watched and choose his clothes.

It was a guy movie, but I didn’t mind. I liked sitting in a dark theater with Daddy, leaning my body into his, our intertwined hands resting on a thigh. Afterwards we went out for coffee, shared a slice of cheesecake. At home I kissed him goodnight, let my lips open a bit, move against his, enough so he’d notice, not so much that he couldn’t rationalize it. When he turned on the shower I cracked open his door, heard him masturbating, returned to my room, did the same.

* * * * *

“Princess, would you pick a tie out for me?”

Daddy was nervous. He had a big presentation, it could mean millions of dollars for the company. Last night he’d practiced, we’d polished it together, I’d assured him how good it was. Tonight, whether he got the account or not, we had plans for dinner.

I tied his tie, slipped his jacket over his shoulders, fixed his hair, straightened his collar, stood on my toes, kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “You’re going to knock ’em dead.”

Daddy kissed my forehead and said, “You take such good care of me Princess. I’m a lucky man.”

“I’m the lucky one Daddy, and this is what daughters are for, to take care of their daddies anyway they can.”

* * * * *

Wearing a knee length red and black dress with a plunging neck line and matching heels, I re-read Daddy’s text: “Princess, I wanted ankaraescortbayansitesi.com you to be the first to know, we got the account, I couldn’t have done it without you,” then entered the restaurant and saw him, so handsome in his blue suit. I told the lady at the desk that my date was already here, moved towards his table; his (and the other men’s) eyes lighting up when he saw me. Daddy stood, took my hand in his, kissed my cheek, held my chair for me. We toasted his triumph, ate, celebrated and laughed, he reached across the table and held my hand; I ran my thumb on the back of his hand.

Later that night, at home, as we sat on the couch drinking coffee, I leaned my back against him, he wrapped his arms around me, and I said, “I had so much fun tonight, congratulations again, I love you Daddy.”

“I love you too my sweet Princess, y’know I couldn’t make it without you.”

* * * * *

Daddy didn’t blink when I suggested a double-date with Jo and Mr. Robertson to the local comedy club, he’d long ago gotten used to the term. He also didn’t blink when I sat close to him, touched him, left my hand on his arm or leg. After all, Jo and her Daddy were doing the same. This night, however, there was a new thing. When Jo and I headed for the bathroom Mr. Robertson leaned over and said, “Carlos, do you find yourself attracted to Salma,” the question leaving no doubt that was how Mr. Robertson felt about Jo.

Relieved to hear he was not alone, Daddy said, “Yeah, you too?”

“Yeah. I’ve read about it, it’s apparently common, still, it’s good to know I’m not alone.”

* * * * *

Daddy was sitting at his desk when, carrying my tablet, wearing a loose-fitting white button-down shirt (two buttons undone) and no bra, I said, “Daddy, can you help, calculus again.”

“Of course Princess.”

Leaning forward, I placed my computer on his desk, giving Daddy a view of my breasts, the dark areolas, the erect fat nipples, then leaned further forward and logged in, my breasts swaying with my motion.

I guess I could have already logged in, but what’s the fun in that?

I stood, Daddy’s eyes flicked back to the computer, and he said, “What’s the issue Princess?”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, I moved behind him, then leaned forward, flattening my left breast on Daddy’s shoulder, and pushed a button on the computer. Knowing he could feel my nipple, fat, firm, and erect, through his light cotton shirt, I shifted position, caressing him with it as I explained my problem.

Daddy answered my question.

You had to admire Daddy.

Saying, “Yes, I see know. Okay Daddy, how about this,” I moved to the left, dragging the fingers of my right hand across his shoulders, reached over Daddy’s left shoulder, pressing my right breast to his body, entered something in the computer, then lay my open right hand on his chest and in a voice close to a purr asked another question. Despite his rapid heart beat and deep breaths, Daddy answered it.

Daddy’s amazing.

Moving directly behind him I ran both hands down his chest, stopping at his waist, inches from his erection, studied the screen, leaned into him from behind, flattening my breasts on his back, said, “Yes, I understand,” kissed the side of his head, hugged him, kissed him again.

“Thank you Daddy.”

“You’re welcome Princess, I’m glad I could help.”

Still hugging him I said, “I have the smartest sweetest handsomest Daddy in the world.”

He asked if there was anything else, I said no, he said he had to go to the bathroom. When he did I pressed my ear to his door, listened to him masturbate, fingered my clit, hurried to my room to do the same.

* * * * *

The next day we were grilling by our pool, Jo and I looking very hot in our bikinis, our Daddy’s very handsome in their swim trunks, when Jo said, “Daddy, y’know what I’d like to do for Thanksgiving, go back to the hotel where we went for my birthday, dance, spend the night.”

It was the place they’d become lovers.

Mr. Robertson said, “That would be fun. Carlos, why don’t you and Salma join us? A double-date, us and our sweet ladies.”

Daddy looked at me, saw my happy face.

“We’d love to Bob.”

* * * * *

Salma and I were shopping. We’d scoped out what we wanted on-line, but, taking no chances, were trying them on, making sure they were perfect. When we knew they were Jo said, “It’s time to buy our Daddy’s presents.”

We picked out ties, then Jo stopped before the men’s boxers.

I giggled, “Do we dare?”

“Of course we dare. Better get used to it, I buy all of Daddy’s underwear. Plus think about it, you in that dress, your Daddy’s erection caressed in silk, he’ll be putty in your hands.”

We gave them the gifts before we left for the hotel. As he pulled the underwear from its box Daddy glanced at Mr. Robertson, saw no discomfort on his friend’s face, accepted the gift in the spirit he imagined it’d been given.

* * * * *

I was in the hotel shower, taking my time, enjoying the endless hot water. Over the last months I’d become Daddy’s confidant; we’d sit together at the end of each day, vet our difficulties, celebrate our successes. Daddy included me in all household decisions and when I asked him to run an errand on the way home I always got a happy, “Yes dear.” I made sure to always look my best around him and while Daddy’s compliments had not yet gotten to “sexy” and “hot,” they’d moved past “sweet” and “nice.” When I leaned forward and exposed my breasts or crossed my legs and moved my short skirt higher on my thigh, Daddy had forgotten to pretend not to notice. When I placed my hand on his while we talked and left it there, or dragged a nail on it, he accepted it as natural. When, cuddling on the couch, when I pressed my breasts to him, he no longer moved away. Our public behavior mirrored our private, we held hands, leaned into each other, touched each other. When people we met on the street – a store clerk, a police officer, a waiter at a restaurant – referred to us as a couple, Daddy no longer bothered to correct them.

Weekend nights were reserved for Daddy, or the four of us, to do something.

Tonight would not be a new thing, it would be the coda confirming what already existed: I was the woman in Daddy’s life.

* * * * *

Helping with my make-up, getting it just right, Jo gave me some last minute advice.

“I know your nervous, but that’s good. When your Daddy senses you’re feeling vulnerable he’ll only want to take care of you more. Remember, you’re a beautiful woman and your Daddy’s a handsome man. Tonight you will become one, just like me and my Daddy; if you keep that in your mind, know it’s true, it will become true.”

“I will, but you’re right, I’m nervous and excited. I can’t believe it, tonight Daddy and I will finally be together.”

“Yes honey, tonight your Daddy will join his body to yours. When you’re dancing with him think about how he’ll soon be inside you. If you think about it real hard I promise he will too. Now let’s take a look at you.”

I stood, moved to the mirror. The red spaghetti straps and scooped neck-line of my bright red dress exposed the upper half of my full firm breasts. I wore my hair down, my gold earrings were small and understated; my lipstick matched my dress and my make-up was perfect: sultry sexy sophisticated. I was available, but only to an exceptional man, a man of class and maturity, a man just like Daddy.

I stepped forward; a red thigh-high stocking clad leg and five inch stiletto heel moved gracefully through the slit that ran half-way up my thigh. All my practice had paid off.

Jo said, “Oh honey, you look amazing.”

“Thanks, now let’s check you out.”

Jo took my place in front of the mirror. Deciding not to compete with me in the eye-popping department, her long silver sleeveless dress was classy, elegant, sexy but restrained. Exposing one shoulder it angled across her chest, clinched at the waist, hung to the floor; a slit ran up her thigh. She slid her leg out of it, showing off a silver stiletto heel held to her foot by three thin straps, one above the toe, one across the middle of her foot, the other above her ankle. Her silver and emerald earrings were long and dangling, her make-up understated. She was breathtaking.

I said, “Jeez, are you beautiful.”

She smiled and, it not being the time for false modesty, said, “Yes, our Daddy’s will be sporting two very hot ladies, which will turn them on even more.”

* * * * *

Jo’s phone pinged. “It’s Daddy, he’s heading for the lobby. I’ll let him know we’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

I said, “But we’re ready now.”

“I know, but it’s best to make men wait. It focuses their attention.”

* * * * *

When we emerged from the elevator Daddy, who was talking to Mr. Robertson, stopped mid-sentence as his eyes fixed on me. I locked my eyes on him, let him know he was the only man in the room who mattered, moved effortlessly across the lobby, leaned into Daddy, kissed his lips. A peck, but not a daughter’s peck.

I slipped my arm around his waist.

Everyone there thought we were lovers.

He said, “Salma, you look amazing.”

There was true appreciation in his voice, for Daddy was a mature man, a man who not only knew his date was lovely, but understood the effort she’d made to look her best for him. There was a time, not too long ago, that he’d been bothered that I was dressed like a sexy young woman, that my dress, my shoes, my make-up, all said this older gentleman was going to get very lucky tonight. But the work of the past months had paid off; tonight he saw me as a woman, his for the evening. He was hooked; all I had to do, with Jo and Mr. Robertson’s help, was reel him in.

* * * * *

The maitre de scanned the reservation list and said, “Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Gonzalez, Mr. and Mrs. Robertson. Your table is ready.”

Our Daddy’s pulled our chairs out for us. We thanked them, kissed their cheeks, sat down, glanced at the menus, laid them on the table, asked our Daddy’s to order for us. Mr. Robertson said, “Carlos, I think our ladies are old enough for a glass of wine.”

Daddy, his eyes locked on me, said, “Yes, of course.”

We chatted, we ate; I leaned towards Daddy, asked if I could to taste his redfish. When he said, “Yes,” I ran my neatly trimmed fingers on the back of his hand, took the fork from his fingers, speared the fish, brought it to my mouth, slid the fork back out between my lips, chewed, said, “Thank you darling, it’s delicious,” then reached across the table and fed him a slice of my veal.

After reviewing the dessert menu I said, “Daddy, let’s share the Chocolate Gooey Pie, it sounds delicious.”

“Of course Princess.”

Jo and her Daddy ordered pecan pie.

Being time to turn it over to Mr. Robertson, I reached over, showing Daddy my bosom, touched his hand, and said, “If you’ll excuse me darling, it’s time to powder my nose.”

Jo said, “I’ll join you.”

Mr. Robertson, watching Daddy’s eyes feast on my departing form, said, “I don’t think our daughters have ever looked more beautiful, we’re the envy of every man here.”

“What would they think if they knew they’re our daughters?”

“From the way they’re dressed, they way we’ve been behaving, no one is thinking that.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, sometimes Salma acts like she has a crush on me.”

“She’s a woman Carlos, it’s not called a crush. Oh, here they come…”

Daddy and Mr. Robertson stood, held our chairs for us. We placed our hands on their shoulders, brushed our lips on their cheeks. When dessert arrived Jo and I slid over to share it with our men. When Daddy smeared chocolate goo on his upper lip I caught it with my finger, brought it to my mouth, licked it off, said, “Delicious.”

The band took the stage. On the dance floor I nuzzled close to Daddy, whispered, “Hold me, hold me like you’ll never let me go,” and he moved his hand from the middle of my back to my hip, pressed me to him.

When Jo glided past us she winked; things couldn’t be going better.

* * * * *

When the band took its break Jo, her Daddy’s arm on her shoulder, said, “Let’s go out on the balcony, I could use some fresh air.”

I said, “Sounds perfect.”

Nodding towards the facilities, Daddy said, “I’ll catch up with you guys.”

My open palm on his chest I kissed his cheek and said, “Okay, but don’t be long, it’s chilly outside. I need your arms around me.”

The crowd had congregated by the doors, so Jo, Mr. Robertson, and I moved to the end of the balcony, where Jo hugged me, told me everything would work out, moved into her father’s arms. I took several steps back, watched their mouths and bodies meld together, stopped I had to stare to discern who they were. Daddy, you see, was too much the gentleman to stare, but he’d peek.

I was leaning on the balcony, my arms folded across my chest, when Daddy wrapped his arms around me from behind and said, “You look cold Princess, do you want to go inside?”

I took his hands in mine, kissed them, dropped my head back onto his shoulder, and said, “No Daddy, hold me and keep me warm; I want to be here with you with no one else around.” He nestled his body to mine, sharing his body heat, carefully keeping his erection from touching me.

You had to admire his self-restraint.

“Daddy I love it when you hold me, I love your strong sexy body. I’ve had so much fun tonight, I love going on dates with my Daddy.”

“Is that what this is, a date with your Daddy?”

“Yes Daddy, Jo and I have dated boys, but we prefer our Daddy’s. They’re smarter and more handsome and sexier and treat us better and aren’t all hung up on themselves.”

At the mention of Jo’s name Daddy glanced at the couple at the end of the balcony; on some level had he made the connection?

I brought his attention back to me.

“Do you like my dress, do you think it’s too much?”

“It’s wonderful, you’re wonderful. When I see you in it, well, my little girl’s a woman.”

I turned in his arms, dragging my breasts on his body, ran a finger the length of his mouth.

“That is what I want to be Daddy, your Princess and your woman.”

“Of course, you’re my forever Princess, and my woman.”

It was time. I slid into him, pressed my leg to his erection, closed my lips on his; they moved against mine. His hand tightened on my back and while he didn’t press his penis into my leg, he didn’t pull away. For Daddy, in those seconds, reality and fantasy merged and he found himself acting out the lust and desire he’d tried to bury, hoping they’d never see the light of day.

Daddy and I have often talked about that night. I was surprised when he told me what went through his mind. I’d never been ashamed of my desire for him, it felt natural, perfect; I dreamed of telling Daddy about it. But it was different for Daddy. As he’d come to see me and want me as a woman, he was afraid I’d find out. So, as I kissed him, as he looked in my eyes and understood my kiss was real, that what I said was real, he felt relief. I was not repulsed by his unspoken desire for me, instead I welcomed it.

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

Author’s notes:

Warning: This story contains bisexual sex. There is both hetero sex, and bisexual sex between both women and men. If you’re not into that, then kindly back out and find another story.

Everyone in this story is over eighteen. I hope you enjoy it. Ratings and comments are always welcome, but please, only if you’ve read the story.

*****

I had always thought of myself as bisexual deep down inside; although I had never confessed that to anyone. I had lived as a straight man all of my adult life, well, until recently. My exploration with male-male sex began quite innocently as a boy, midway through puberty, with two other neighborhood boys—you show me yours I’ll show you mine. That led to a summer of mutual masturbation and, eventually, a little cock sucking. Back then, where I grew up, being gay was still very taboo. So, of course our boyhood experimentation was not only hush hush, it ended quickly when we went back to school, and was never talked about again.

Dating girls, and eventually marrying a woman, was the expected societal course for us mid-western boys, and that script was followed lockstep. But I never forgot, and often masturbated to, those heady boyhood memories out behind the neighbor’s barn. Maybe it was that early introduction to sex, maybe it was my father’s stack of Playboy and Penthouse magazines I found hidden in the house, or maybe it was just my DNA, but I was always horny, more than most boys it seemed, and for anything and everything sexual—male or female. They say most males think of sex all day, but from what I’ve gathered, after they’ve cum, their thoughts turn to other things while they recharge. Me, I couldn’t stop. As a teen, I masturbated multiple times a day and had a very short recovery time. In between orgasms, my mind was still in sex la la land. I worried I was some sort of sexual deviant, a pervert, but it felt so good and normal to me, I didn’t lose much sleep over it.

I did have one other male experience when I was home from college during my sophomore year. Ken, one of the experimental neighborhood boys of my youth and I were out drinking and attempting to pick up some “chicks” as we called the girls our age. It turned out to be a dry night as far as girls were concerned, but there was sexual fuel left in the tank. Hanging out at his parents’ place, near that fateful barn, and drinking some more beer, Ken started talking about what we had done as teens. He mentioned he had thought about it often. I told him I had as well. It wasn’t long before we were sucking each other off that night. I was happy that we had rekindled that boyhood experimentation, but Ken freaked out. He said it was a big drunken mistake and made quite a stink about it. Ken’s reaction made me feel guilty for enjoying it, so I buried that half of my desires.

I dated and had a few long-term relationships with girls before I met my wife, but I wouldn’t have called myself a Casanova, my overactive sex drive not withstanding. I quenched my unabating lust with my own hands when not with one of my girlfriends. I was loyal by default. It’s not that I abhorred cheating necessarily; Lord knows I dreamt of others, and threesomes, and group sex. It’s just that the opportunity never presented itself in my small world. Looking back now, I’m sure I could have made something happen—the old “if I knew then what I know now” thing. But then, I would have been a different person, not the loyal Taurus I was born to be.

My wife Lisa and I had had a healthy sex life, and I’m eternally grateful for that. I never stopped masturbating on the side though, or indulging in porn. This was something I had done before I met any of my girlfriends, including my wife. I always told myself that this was something I did for me, regardless of any relationship I’d get into. And to tell the truth, my fantasy sex kept me home, and married.

Lisa died suddenly while at work about a year ago. She collapsed while giving a presentation to her team. An aortic aneurysm, the autopsy report said. The mourning was hard, and there’s a hole in my heart that will never mend. I had no sexual contact with another person during that mourning period; masturbation was my only relief.

As my year of mourning waned, I began to mentally explore how to resume a sex life with another woman. One of the things I’ve always kicked myself for was not being sexually honest with my wife, or others for that matter. I’m bisexual, I like porn, I masturbate often, and I’d like to be in open sexual relationships with other people. I’d like to explore threesomes and group sex. But, that’s not the person I had always presented to the world.

At 50 years old, I was suddenly single and without children. My dilemma: should the real me, the highly sexed, bisexual me, come out? If he did, how would others in my life react to that? I had a large extended family and many platonic friends, and my reputation was important to me. Dare I wreak havoc on my good name for the sake of my lust? Or should I continue to quell my monster quietly with fantasy ankaraescortbayansitesi.com as I’d always done; while enjoying a conventional man woman relationship? I had been doing the latter for so long it was all I had known for years.

The more I thought about it, the muddier the waters got. Did I want a replacement for my dearly departed wife? Or something else? The gay side of my bisexual brain kept sending messages through that I had not been with another guy for the best part of thirty years, and maybe it was time to give that a try again. But the straight and controlling part of my brain was resisting any such notion. While I had enjoyed watching bisexual, and even gay porn from time to time, the thought of actually initiating some liaison with another male was unnerving. It was one thing for us boys to experiment with each other, but it was quite another thing for me, as an adult, to actually seek out another male for sex—especially when I’d been living a straight life all those years.

I had recently joined a few dating sites and perused the catalog of women. Their pictures, their little write-ups, their likes and dislikes, all left me hollow. On Mid-life Singles, I almost sent Amy a message, and then there was Beverly; each had their charms, but in the end, I couldn’t see either of them as bisexual swingers, and the thought of that conversation and the likely look of horror on their faces, persuaded me not to hit “Send” on the messages I’d carefully drafted. I checked out the “hook-up” sites, the home of the one-night stand, and a quick fuck sites, and the thought of that left me equally hollow. I wanted a relationship with people I had sex with. Not just meet, fuck, and never see each other again. If I was in my twenties, maybe I’d enjoy the Tinders and their like, but at my age I needed to connect with someone if we were going to get intimate. My dream was a posse of like-minded souls—perverts like me. A group to meet up and enjoy each other’s bodies, and then to laugh, converse, and rejoice; and then do it all over again the next day, the next week, and on and on.

I guess, deep down, I wasn’t ready, and I could quell my lust through masturbation, so I didn’t need to hurry.

It was while searching for some porn on the internet that I stumbled onto a male masturbation web site. My curiosity got the better of me and I started poking around that site. It had some blogs, a forum, members could post photos, some of them hooked up via web cam, or phone apps, and some hooked up in real life just to masturbate together. From what I gathered while researching the site, even those in real life meet-ups stuck to just masturbating together; there was no oral or anal sex allowed. The membership was a mix of straight, bi and gay guys. It sounded like a safe way for me to explore a little with other males, and share with them something I enjoyed doing several times a day anyway.

So I registered under the screen name of Bonobo. I searched for members in my area and sent a few friend requests just to see where this would go. My first attempts at finding a bate buddy, or an IRL meet-up group, didn’t immediately bear fruit; most such groups were in bigger cities. And while I lived in a socially progressive area, it was rural, and it was a couple of hours drive or train ride to the big city.

After a few weeks of poking around on KingofJacks I got a PM from a user calling himself Scarface.

“I see you’re in the area. I run a bate meet-up group, but it’s invite only. You’ll need a photo of yourself in your profile to be considered.”

That was it. Short and to the point. I had seen that many of the other members included their photo in their profiles, but a good percentage did not. When I joined, I skipped that option. I didn’t want anyone who knew me to find me on a masturbation web site. Maybe the lack of my personal photo explained why the friend requests I had made to the few others in my area went unanswered.

Scarface’s avatar was picture of a statue of the Greek God Pan with a very large erection. I clicked on Scarface’s profile to see if he had a photo of himself. I was blocked. A pop-up message informed me that this profile was private, and the owner had not granted me access. “A private profile?” I mused. I hadn’t seen that before on the site.

I explored some of the other men’s profile photos to see what they had done. Most posed naked, some with hard-ons. Some had their faces proudly displayed, others had their face in a shadow or with an eye mask on. I had never taken a picture of myself naked before, let alone with a hard-on. And when I thought of the idea of posting one on the internet, my immediate reaction was to forget it. But, slowly I came round to the idea: after all, I wasn’t getting any traction with my profile as it was.

Lisa had one of those party eye masks she got the time we attended Mari Gras, so I stripped naked and worked up a good stiff hard-on, and with the mask covering my eyes I took a picture of my reflection in the full length mirror. I had always looked young for my age. I keep myself fit and have an athletic body. My cock is an average six inches with a decent girth. It’s actually a pretty good-looking cock, even if I say so myself. I was still hesitant about posting the photo. I examined it from every angle to convince myself that no one I knew would be able to identify me from it. And, of course, if anyone I knew was on that website, well…they’d be there for the same reason I was.

With butterflies in my stomach and sweat on my brow, I took a deep breath and posted the photo in my profile. I then pinged a PM to Scarface and logged out of the website—I didn’t want to be tempted to keep checking for PMs. I found some bisexual porn to jerk off with, and then went to bed.

The next day I logged back into KingofJacks and immediately saw I had a new PM. With trepidation I checked who it was from. It was Scarface. I opened it.

“This Thursday. 7:00PM. Don’t be late.” was all the message said. The address was included.

I had another message in my inbox from Admin. I opened that next. It was one of those automatically generated messages when something about your account has changed. “User Scarface has granted you permission to access their profile.”

My mind was a buzz with doubt. How many other guys would be there? What did they look like? Did that even matter? Would they also follow the no sex, masturbation only rule? What if someone tried to suck my cock or kiss me? What would I do? All these thoughts raced through my mind as I clicked on Scarface’s profile.

Scarface’s photo was not what I had expected. I was ready for a man with a scarred face, but what I found was a picture of a rather hot-looking blond woman dressed in stockings and heals. She looked to be about forty years old. She wore a lacy open busted chemise and no panties. Her legs were open to the camera and her left hand middle finger was on her clit. Her exposed naturally ample breasts lay neatly on her chest. It was confusing as hell. This was a male masturbation website. I didn’t see any rules against women joining, but I didn’t expect this. I reckoned this guy just didn’t want to have his real photo out there, so he used a shot from a porn site that he liked to masturbate to.

As Thursday approached, more than once I made up my mind to chicken out. My brain battled with itself, but my ever-ready lust kept nudging me back into the “I’m going” circle. I gave my dick a rest Tuesday and Wednesday; I wanted to be good and randy so my straight half couldn’t find an excuse to back out.

As I drove my car up to the address Scarface sent me, I was surprised by the upscale suburban neighborhood. I hadn’t known what to expect. For all I knew, they could have been meeting in a closed bar or some industrial building that these bate brothers rented for their jerk-off parties. I hadn’t given it much thought, but a house party suddenly made sense. I wondered I’d be expected to host a party if I was accepted into the group.

I parked my car in the empty driveway. The owner’s cars were in the garage, presumably. Being the first one to arrive unnerved me; I couldn’t slip in half noticed like I usually liked to do at unfamiliar gatherings. But that night, I was dripping with lust and needed some relief, so I steeled myself for the task at hand. As I strolled up the walkway to the front door, I noticed the night air. It was a cool, crisp late summer evening. There was a scent in the air, a musk that took me back to Ken’s barn for a moment. Eros coursed through my veins. I was on fire with lust. I rang the door bell and waited. Nothing for a good two minutes. I stood wondering if I had gotten the right place when the door finally opened. A half-naked woman answered the door. She was the same blond from Scarface’s profile. I was getting a little concerned, but the intrigue was making me even hornier. I felt that I could fuck anybody behind that door if this is what the night was to bring.

“Umm…is this? Are guys meeting here tonight?”

“You must be Bonobo. Come in,” sang a sultry voice to match the vixen that stood before me. She wore the same outfit as in the photo: fishnet nylons and heels, a lacy see through open bust chemise, and no panties. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Ponytails are one of my weaknesses. As I crossed the threshold into the house, I realized my cock was rock hard. She led me into the living room. The large room was adorned with modern furniture and interesting artwork. She turned and stopped and motioned for me to stand still. She proceeded to a leather chair about eight feet in front of me and sat down. She opened her legs and moved her left hand to her nicely trimmed blond bush. She looked at me with mysteriously sexy eyes and began circling her finger on her clit.

“This is not what it seems,” she said softly but authoritatively. “You’ve come to the right place. Others will arrive shortly, and you will masturbate.”

“Are you Scarface?” I asked. The arousing curiosity was killing me. The thought flashed through my mind that she was just a woman who liked watching guys jerk-off and so she arranged these parties. Or maybe this thing turns into an orgy, or a gang-bang, or something.

“I am Scarface’s wife, Gina. My husband has special needs, sexual needs. He likes men, as well as woman. I try to make him happy.” She said, through her rapidly increasing breath as she worked her clit in front of me.

“And you? What do you like?” I asked so boldly it shocked me. Where did that come from? I thought. I’m usually shy and polite to a fault.

“Oh, I love to watch you boys play with yourselves, and I love to be watched as well. I’m the main attraction.”

Her hand worked her pussy faster and harder. I noticed her clit, it was disproportionately large for the size of her vulva. It stuck out like a little dick head. She fingered just her clit rapidly and climaxed in front of me.

“I can cum a hundred times tonight. You count em,” she flirted. “Tell me about yourself, Mr. Bonobo.”

“Well…my name is Peter.”

“Okay, Peter. Tell me; when was the first time you touched yourself? Are you gay? Bi? Straight? Are you married, single, or otherwise coupled? At what age was your first sexual experience with another person?”

I told Gina about my deceased wife, and that I was currently unattached. I told her about the boys behind the barn.

“I’m bisexual,” I said proudly. Something I’ve never said out loud before.

“Take out your cock,” she ordered, as she stared at the bulge in my pants.

I eagerly slipped my zipper down and released my strained cock from its confines. It felt good to be out in the air, and hard in my hands. I stroked my cock lightly while I stared at her eyes. I then moved my gaze to her pussy as she continued to masturbate herself.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked with a sexy cocked head as she began working that fat clit feverishly. “Do you like to watch me?”

“Yes…I…,” was all I could get out of my mouth as I felt the presence of someone quietly and slowly coming up behind me.

“Don’t turn. Look at me,” she ordered.

I felt a masculine hand on my bare left arm, and I jumped a little in surprise, but my gaze remained on Gina masturbating in front of me. He gripped my triceps firmly and I felt hot breath on my neck. I started to turn to see who this was.

“Look at my wife, Peter,” a velvety deep voice in my neck instructed. “I am Scarface. Welcome to my home. Watch her play with herself. Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Yes. Very much so,” I managed.

“Keep touching yourself, Peter. Yes…just like that…that’s it…you have a nice cock…mmm…yes just keep stroking that beautiful cock of yours.”

This felt weird; this whole “don’t look at him” thing. I desperately wanted to turn and see who was touching my arm and breathing on my neck, but my lust kept me glued to the moment. I could have been ordered to do anything. I was putty in their hands.

I felt something hard slide between my trouser legs and poke at my balls. It was then I realized he was naked and he was pushing his hard cock between my pant legs.

“Do you like that, Peter? I hear you’re bisexual, but haven’t been with a man in thirty years. Yes, I’ve been listening the whole time you’ve been talking to my wife; just on the other side of the hall.

“Yes…I…I like it. Yes,” I stuttered, helpless to say anything else.

“Don’t worry, Peter. I’m not going have sex with you. Not tonight. Tonight is all about masturbation. Welcome to our weekly group session. The others should be here shortly. I wanted you to come early so we could get to know each other,” he said as he moved around to the front of me.

He was a rugged looking man about my age. He had a body that exuded fitness and strength, but not fitness borne of a gym; a natural fitness that lingered on from youthful hard work. His skin was tanned and handsomely wrinkled, worn from miles of sun and fresh air. His blue eyes set like two jewels cast about some old leather. His thick dark wavy hair framed his handsome face. He was stroking his cock as he talked. His circumcised cock was about the same length as mine, six inches give or take, but with a thicker base and a slight bend to the left halfway up its length. Sporting the same tanned skin of his body, his cock told of a life spent in the nude outdoors. His cock’s helmet head was lighter in color than the shaft, and pulsed red with excitement. Deep full blue veins, like proud roots, coursed through his shaft supporting his erection.

The doorbell rang and he instinctively turned his face in that direction. It was then I saw it. The left side of his face, a furrow cut from his temple to his chin. It must have been a deep wound. Healed awkwardly, the scar was pinker than the rest of his face, and it cut diagonally across the contour of his wrinkles. On anyone else, that scar might have been a detraction, something you’d try hard not to see as you looked them in the eye during conversation, but on him it fitted well with his rugged face, like an artist’s splash of color to draw in the gaze. There was a story in that scar, many stories, and I was dying to hear them.

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 was eighteen years old when this all happened. At the time it shocked and surprised me and I had a hard time accepting my incredible good fortune. The experience I’m about to relate quickly became something I’d never want to change. It became a part of my growing up. It was nothing but an awesome adventure that became the basis of my sexual maturation.

I lived with my parents, sister and brother in a nice house in a nice suburb of Atlanta.

It was a Saturday morning in May. A gorgeous day. I’d been for an early run and as I arrived home, Mrs. James, the next door neighbor, was waving at me. She wasn’t waving a good morning kind of greeting, it was definitely a wave that asked if I could go over and talk to her. I slowed and approached. “Hi Jeff, how are you….?” She began.

In my eyes, Lynne James was an attractive woman of about 30 years old, somebody I should respect, say ‘hello’ to when we noticed each other. Not somebody I’d be hitting on, not somebody I should look at in an ‘I’d love to fuck her’ kind of way. She wasn’t somebody that would have any interest in me for starters. She was a neighbor, a different generation, off limits and never in my mind.

I suppose I was polite, friendly, even good looking in an eighteen year old kind of way. I was into school work, sports and second, sometimes third base foreplay.

I’d been favored with a hand job on rare occasions courtesy of my girlfriend of two years. There was the promise of more to come one day. We’d told each other we’d wait until we were nineteen for some stupid reason. A distant seven months away.

Of course there was a Mr. James. His name, for what it matters, was Bob, in fact, wherever he is now his name probably still is Bob. He seemed pleasant enough. He left the house early each day in a suit and tie and came home late most days with his tie loosened and the jacket over his shoulder. He drove a big Mercedes, she drove a smaller convertible one.

At weekends they’d have occasional pool parties, they’d have their share of visitors and they generally just fit right in with the rest of the folks in our world. It seemed then as if they had a typical upper middle class life style much like everybody else our family knew. There were no kids but that didn’t mean anything. Just the way it was.

On this day, Mrs. James needed my help and I was happy to oblige. She’d had a dresser delivered that was sitting in the first bay of their garage and she wanted to ask if I could help Mr. James take it into the house. She smiled when I offered my assurance that I’d be happy to help but frowned when I said I’d get showered and come straight back over to her house. That wouldn’t work for her. Mr. James was headed off to the golf course, could I do it right now? Why not?

Her husband showed up and explained the plan. He was looking at his watch as he addressed me, no problem, we shook hands and got on with the job. We started by unwrapping the plastic that was wrapped around the thing and removed some protective corner pieces.

I went to grab one end as he approached the other. She interrupted us and asked us to remove the drawers before taking it inside. He told her we could manage it with the drawers in place as he looked at his watch again. She basically insisted that it was going to be done her way “Take the fucking drawers out Bob because I don’t want them sliding out and falling down the fucking stairs or banging into the fucking walls that were painted two fucking weeks ago and if you would like to shut the fuck up you’ll get the fuck out of the house and off to the golf course where you can play with your fucking dumb ass buddies a lot more quickly.” She didn’t pause for breath and her husband seemed to get a clear message. I silently agreed it was perhaps better to start removing the drawers.

The drawers each had a safety catch at the back. It took five minutes for us to realize this and he was fuming and sweating as he tried to pull out the top drawer, moving onto another one when he couldn’t slide it out. It was Lynne who leaned casino siteleri into look and suggested that he “twist that little thing downwards and maybe it’ll come out.” It did. So did all the others. He looked at his watch before taking hold of his end of the dresser.

“Bob, just get the dresser into the bedroom, go to your golf and I’ll put the drawers in myself, ok dear.” He was okay with that.

The thing was fucking heavy. Bob was getting more annoyed with each backward step. I wanted to offer to go first if it would help him but I didn’t want to speak and interrupt progress. I concentrated on holding my end up and staying out of their issues. Finally we had it in the bedroom and as Bob set it down his arm went to his lower back as if there was some kind of injury there. He seemed to think better of making any announcement and he looked at Lynne to ask if his work was done. She scratched her chin, looked at him, looked at the dresser, back at him and said “yes, go, have a good game.”

As he left I slid the thing into position against the wall. She became a friendly, smiling, happy lady. She was nothing at all like the lady that had been in the house up to the point that the husband had left.

Eventually it seemed to be in exactly the spot she wanted it. Opposite the end of a king sized brass bed. Beneath and perfectly centered with a huge ornate mirror. She smiled and asked my opinion. Apart from wondering why the fuck she’d care what my opinion was I paused and looked at her briefly before looking back at the dresser. “It’s perfect” I told her. She was happy and said she’d start bringing up the drawers. I offered to help and she accepted my offer.

She sprang downstairs and headed off to the living room as I approached the garage.

I picked up two drawers and was heading back towards the stairs as the music started. She smiled as she bounced towards the garage. It occurred to me that I was alone with a very good looking woman.

I took the drawers upstairs and installed the first two. As I was leaving the bedroom Mrs. James brushed by me on her way in with one drawer. She smiled as we crossed just inside the doorway. Her good smell is my memory of that instant and if in the same circumstances today I would certainly remark on noticing that. However, I was eighteen and had a very limited appreciation of the value or benefits received in complimenting a lady.

On reentering the room with two more drawers I noticed that she had made a start on filling the drawers. I also noticed a pile of panties and bras on the bed. Some stuff was already in the top drawer. “Shall I just leave these here for now?” I asked.

“Yes please Jeff, I am so excited to have this dresser.” She smiled at her announcement and I think I managed to reply “it’s really nice.”

As I descended the stairs for the last drawer I thought that perhaps I should show a bit more enthusiasm, be a little more friendly.

The best I could manage was “wow, it looks even better with the drawers in.” She smiled again.

“Jeff, would you be a darling and move that rocker over to the other corner.” She touched my arm, pointed and her request was clear.

“My pleasure” That’s more like it I thought, feeling awkwardness melt away as my highly developed conversational skills kicked in.

I placed the rocker in the assigned corner and as I turned in stride my upper groin met firmly and swiftly with the big brass knob on the top of the bed frame. I gasped and doubled up in pain practically collapsing to my knees. She was by my side in a split second, asking what happened, encouraging me to lay back. My explanation and pointing along with her own assessment led her to believe that ice was called for. She asked if I could make it onto the bed. I could with her help. I lay flat besides her piles of sexy lingerie and she left the room for ice.

In her absence it dawned on me that I was laying on a nice bed, about to be attended to by a gorgeous older woman and my pain really had subsided somewhat. For the amerikan ruleti first time I had that moment of enlightenment and realized that I should let this be my time if that’s what it was meant to be.

Mrs. James seemed quite concerned. She arrived back in the bedroom with an arm full of towels and a bowl of ice. She asked me to point to the spot. I did but a tad closer to my cock than the real epicenter of my pain.

“You’ll have to slip your shorts off Jeff.”

“Okay.” I grimaced.

I undid the knotted chord, lifted my butt and grimaced again as I hooked my fingers into the waistband. “Oh stop. Let me help you.” She noticed my pain.

“I feel so terrible, first you carry that dresser practically all by yourself, I didn’t let you go shower, then you hurt yourself moving the rocker. I’m so sorry Jeff.” Her sequence was off but the concern and guilt seemed genuine.

“It’s okay Mrs. James.”

“Call me Lynne, Jeff, please, call me Lynne.” She had taken a grip on my shorts and asked me to lift up just a little. I did as instructed. She left a towel over my groin and slid My shorts and briefs down to my ankles. She giggled and apologized for not taking off my sneakers first. As she looked at me I recognized what a gorgeous, sexy, flirtatious smile she had. I couldn’t have verbalized it then but the recognition was clear.

Somewhere inside my basic sense of masculinity and deep amongst all the things should appeal to it, I recognized this woman as more than she had previously been. She was now an object of desire.

She removed my running shoes and dropped the clothes on the floor behind her.

“Let’s see now, and tell me you won’t be shy.”

“No, I won’t be shy.” I slid the towel to my right as she approached from the left. She could surely see the profile of my cock and balls.

“Show me where it hurts” as I moved my hand towards the pain she continued “oh no don’t move, I can see where it’s bruising. Oh you poor thing, I feel terrible.” She repeated herself but I’d decided that the best I could do for myself was to let her convince herself of her guilt in all this.

She placed her cool fingers on my groin and asked me to let her know when it hurt. She moved around a little, gently pressing. My most pained tightening came as she got closer to my cock which twitched rather violently as her finger tips pressed within an inch or so of its base.

“Oh good Jeff” she paused “at least that’s not broken” she smiled up at me with raised eyebrows as her fingers continued their movement. I was no longer responsible for my cock.

What I wanted to say was something along the lines of ; Mrs. James why don’t you just suck my cock because nobody ever did that and then let me fuck you because I’m a virgin and it would feel really good to be fucked by you, but that’s not what came out. “No, it’s still working I think, that feels good Mrs. James.” Which wasn’t bad for me at that stage of my development.

Her fingers moved closer to my cock “Please call me Lynne”

“Sorry, yes, I will, Lynne. I like that name.” She smiled at me as I spoke.

Her left hand continued to touch softly close to my expanding cock as she reached down for some ice. It was a jolt when the ice hit my groin but her fingers circled my cock at exactly that moment and my gasp was for both events.

She skated the ice cube around my groin as she began stroking my cock “Does that feel good Jeff?” Her eyes switched from my face to my cock. It was as big as it was going to get now and had it not been for her hand it would have rested flat and hard with its head at my navel.

“Yessss Lynne, that feels really good. I mean, er, really awesome.”

This wasn’t a fumbled zipper experience in the front seat of a Jeep with a girl that didn’t have a clue of how much a cock can appreciate some gentle handling. I was clearly and literally in the hands of an expert.

The ice melted and dripped slowly along the groove between groin and thigh “Oh, the ice is melting” her avrupa ruleti finger chased the rivulets down that same crease and repeatedly dragged the drops upwards. Scathing my ass and balls as her left hand continued its caresses.

She looked at me again, for longer this time, still stroking my cock very tenderly, a smile creased her lips and her eyes widened. Her head was moving towards my cock before her gaze left mine. I wanted to hold the gaze until she couldn’t and I wanted to lean back as she swallowed me whole but it didn’t quite go that way. She poked her tongue tenderly at me. She dipped in and stabbed me with its stiff, soft wetness, she smiled back in search of an expressive reaction which came naturally as one of extreme pleasure. She toyed with me, played with me, tormented and tasted me, slowly and lovingly. She labored on her work, certain she knew that she was doing to me what had never been done before.

She let me throb in her soft grip as she stared back beyond my misty eyes and into my mind. She swooped again and took me softly between her lips, she wet me and sucked on the very tip. She was playing with me as a well fed cat might play with a live mouse. She looked again, smiled again and leaned away from me. She moved from the bed, and slowly, very fucking agonizingly slowly, stripped naked.

Her body was centerfold. Gorgeous, stunning curves. Delicate, lithe, tanned, sexy. I’d never (of course) seen anything like it in three dimensions. I wanted to do whatever people do in those circumstances and I figured she’d show me what that was. She did.

She slid over my body and tugged my shirt off, She leaned in and kissed me, flattening my cock between our bellies. She sucked and licked my lips, her tongue encouraged my own to dance, she grazed my teeth, she licked and nibbled my ears, she breathed on my neck and whispered things I’d never heard as she ran her fingers through my hair. She reached between us and found me. She leaned back keeping her weight off me and she took my cock in her hand. She lifted it as she lifted herself. She put me to her bald pussy. I reached a hand for her breasts and she pushed me away “later” she said.

Knowing there would be a later was very good news.

She put my cock inside the entrance to her sex. She lifted and lowered, she clutched my cock inside her and fell still lower until she was as full as I could make her. She gripped me there and gave me a feeling that could never have been imagined. From that point she moved harder and faster with her palms flat against my chest. She fucked me, that’s all, it was a ride she needed and it was the most perfect feeling. The wetness, the warmth, the tightness and the sensations that come with that sensual bombardment were more than I could stand and my cock exploded harder and for longer than I had ever thought possible.

She screamed as my cock pumped itself into her and she slammed down harder bringing back memories of my sore groin. I was in a state of amazement at the witnessing of the ways a woman’s body moves as she fucks like that.

Eventually she slowed “God that was so fucking good Jeff”

“Wow, it was?”

“Are you kidding that was fantastic, you’ve been practicing.”

“Er well, not really.”

“Wow, Jeff, you have the most fantastic cock.”

“I do?”

“Nobody told you already?” She had stilled and seemed to be somewhere between surprise, shock and a loud, happy scream.

“Er, no, nobody ever mentioned it.” For all I was in awe of the experience we’d just created it seemed that the awkward me was back.

“Well you do, take my word for it.”

“You mean we can do this again?”

“Oh absofuckinglutely Jeff, keep it a secret, be careful and we can do it a lot.”

“That’d be cool.”

“Yes, very cool.”

And that’s how it came to be. Her husband played golf and worked while Lynne James showed me how to fuck (among other things). She taught me more that summer than I’ve learned in twenty years since. She left me as a sexually confident young man, educated in the ways of female pleasuring, ready to face the world and notice opportunities when they present themselves.

All you Lynnes or Mrs. James’ out there, please know how much you’re appreciated by guys like me and in a stealth kind of way, by those women we meet later.

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

*Note – This is a work of fiction.

The chicken soup was delicious. I had a tough time getting up the nerve to tell Dawn that I had to go home. It was going on 10:00 pm. The last thing I wanted was for her to think that I had gotten what I wanted and was just going to split.

“What are you worried about? Go, go, go!” she said while shooing me with her hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow after work.”

She was right. I would be by with office work for her. I took the boxes of sorted coupons and my dirty clothes and headed home.

The next day at work, I must have had a little extra lift to my step, because it only took a few minutes before Carl, the boss’s son, asked me if I won the lottery or something.

“Nope, nothing like that,” I replied cheerfully.

“Win some money on the games over the weekend?” Carl asked, taking another stab at it.

“Let’s just say that things are starting to look up for me.” I replied.

“Oh, shit. He got laid,” said Dave, the grocery manager. “We’re never going to hear the end of it.”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” I said.

“Why? Did you have to put a bag over her head?” asked Carl, laughing his ass off.

I just walked away. Why is there always an asshole around to spoil things?

I finished work at 4:00 and was knocking at Dawn’s door at 4:15. This time I was carrying simple paperwork for her to do. She opened the door, grabbed me by the coat, and yanked me into the house.

“I didn’t think I could wait much longer,” she said, as she gave me a kiss and almost sucked the air out of my lungs.

“Whew,” I said, when she let me breath.

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “I’m all better now.”

“What did you bring me, today?” Dawn asked.

“The usual crap,” I replied, sitting down on the couch.

“You want to stay for dinner?” she asked, with the look of ‘better say yes or I’ll die’.

I had been mulling this over in my head all day. Do I keep the heat turned up or tone it down a bit to see if she really wanted to pursue this relationship. Obviously she wanted to pursue it. I didn’t want her to cook for me again. I had a lot of money burning a hole in my pocket with nothing to spend it on.

“How about we go out?” I asked.

“Ah, aren’t you afraid of someone seeing us together? I doubt they’ll think we’re discussing work. I don’t think the people at the store are ready for this kind of thing,” she said, plopping her caboose next to me with her boobs jiggling.

“There is a place right across the bridge in Jersey that is really nice, has just about anything you want, and is a little too high class for our co-workers,” I said, trying to think of its’ name. “Agabetties’! That’s the name of it.”

“I know the place. Isn’t it a little out of our price range?” asked Dawn, a bit concerned.

“Not for one night. You’re going to need to wear something better than a sweatshirt, though,” I said, pointing to her attire.

“No problem,” she said, hopping off the sofa and dashing into her room.

While Dawn changed, I went to the bathroom to clean up a little. I already had a shirt and tie on from work, so I already met the dress requirements for the restaurant.

Thirty minutes later I was still waiting. I could picture her trying on each outfit, looking in the mirror, and moving on to the next. Another thirty minutes later, the door opened and out came Dawn, all made up, with a sexy low cut, burgundy colored dress, that set off her green eyes and blonde hair. She didn’t remind me of my mom anymore.

“What do you think?” she asked, turning around so I could get a full look.

“Very nice,” I said.

Monday nights must have been slow for Agabetties’. We had the place to ourselves. Looking around, you could tell this was a place of class. Real wood tables, linen lined walls, silver vases with fresh flowers at every table, and a different person for each part of the meal.

I have to tell you, I’m not very sophisticated. I’m part of the beer and football crowd. When the wine guy came out and went through his presentation, he looked genuinely hurt when we ordered Miller beers instead.

We opened our menus. There were about thirty different items on the dinner pages. Most of which I had no idea what they were. No explanation was given as to what was involved in the dish. I almost asked the guy to come back and explain some of them, when I noticed veal parmesan. I knew what that was. I asked Dawn if she knew what she wanted.

“Order something for me,” she said, batting her eyes at me, with a big smile on her face.

Oh great. Now I can’t ask the guy what this stuff is. It would really make me look stupid.

I looked the menu over again. I stopped at the chicken. I figured that most women like chicken, so it would be a safe bet.

The waiter arrived and asked if we wanted an appetizer. Dawn shook her head.

“We’ll pass,” I said looking at the price of their shrimp cocktail.

“Are you ready to order dinner?” the waiter asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“And what would you care for, this evening,” he turned Uzun porno and asked Dawn.

She pointed to me, and the waiter turned in my direction with his pen poised at his pad.

“The lady would like chicken catha.., cata.., crapa.., cacciatore.”

“Ah, yes, an excellent choice, and very well pronounced if I may add,” said the waiter, as Dawn put her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“I’ll have the veal parmesan,” I said quickly.

“Another excellent choice,” he said as he wrote it down and walked away.

By now, Dawn was nearly having a fit. She still had her hand over her mouth and was starting to shake with the contained laughter. Finally, with a tear rolling down her cheek, she was able to remove her hand.

“Sorry, that was so funny,” she said, starting to laugh all over again.

With that, another guy came to the table and placed bread and butter. The bread was freshly baked. Next, out came the violin guy, playing something I never heard before.

“I take requests. Do you have anything in mind?” he asked, after he finished the song with a flourish.

“How about the Notre Dame fight song?” I asked.

“Yeah, or how about ‘Camp Town Races’,” asked Dawn, now starting to laugh again.

“I can see that you two don’t get out much,” replied the virtuoso, as he tucked the violin and bow under his arm and walked out of the room.

Next came another guy with our salads and a serving cart of dressings. After quizzing the guy about every kind, each more exotic than the last, we both chose Italian.

Next, the soup guy brought out two bowls of steaming hot soup.

“What is it?” I asked.

He told me. I nodded knowingly.

I knew as much as before I asked him. It was good though.

Finally, the main course was brought, by yet, another guy. Each meal was served in a silver-serving dish complete with lid. A big ritual was made in the presentation, with the culmination of him removing the lid and revealing the food. When the waiter lifted the lid on mine, all I wanted to ask was “Where’s the beef?” I had two silver dollar sized pieces of veal on my plate and some spaghetti. Dawn’s meal looked a little better.

When the meal was done, the original waiter returned to ask if we wanted desert. We both shook our heads no.

“I’ll return with your check in a moment,” he said, walking away.

As we waited, Dawn said, “Are you going home tonight, or can I persuade you to stay over?”

Today, I packed an overnight bag, just in case the situation came up.

“I don’t see any reason to go rushing home,” I replied.

“Good,” she said, running her foot up and down my leg.

The waiter returned. I paid him and gave him a sizable tip, figuring he would split it with the others. I figured wrong. As we headed to the exit, all the other waiters, and the violin guy, were lined up by the door.

“Oh, shit,” I said, looking in my nearly empty wallet. “Follow my lead.” I said to Dawn.

As we reached the waiters, I began slapping them on the arm, saying, “Good job, good job. Keep up the good work,” and we exited the door at nearly a sprint.

As we reached the car, we looked back and saw them staring out the door at us.

“I guess we won’t be coming back here anytime soon,” chuckled Dawn.

When we returned to Dawn’s house, she went to her room to change. I set the overnight bag down on the floor and pulled out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. As I started to undress, I heard Dawn call me. Not from her bedroom, but from the bathroom. Somehow, she got there without me noticing. As I neared the door, I could hear the shower running.

I opened the door and walked in.

From inside the shower, I heard, “I thought a quick shower would do me good,” she said, while pressing her large breasts against the frosted glass for effect. They had an effect, all right.

“Want to join me?” she asked while opening the door a little, and giving me the ‘come here’ motion with her finger.

I jumped in with all the enthusiasm of a kid running after the ice cream truck.

I got my first look at her completely naked. Her creamy white skin was unblemished. Her breasts matched her middle-aged butt, (which actually was kind of cute). Her womanhood was lost in a forest of hair. (Remember, this was the early ’70’s).

“I hope you like what you see,” she said, with grin.

I leaned forward, grabbed two handfuls of boob and kissed her.

“You really like them, don’t you?” she asked.

I responded by taking the soap and swirling it around her chest and abdomen. We took turns washing each other. Neither of us touched each other’s privates.

At some point, she was turned with her back to me, and I was moving down to wash her thighs. She leaned against the wall with the shower spraying on her head. I washed down to her feet and then back up her inner thighs. As I got close to her womanhood, her legs began to tremble. I soaped up my hand, and reached between her legs. As I gently touched her, she gasped, grabbed my hand and mashed it into her Öğrenci porno crotch. She nearly lost her balance and slipped. I grabbed her with my other arm and held her tight.

“Thank you,” she said, regaining her composure. “God, you do that great!”

“What did I do?” I thought to myself.

She turned the water off, and looked down at my cock. It was hard as a rock and bobbing with my pulse.

“Looks like someone wants a little attention,” she said, as she ran her fingers over its’ length. “Do you recharge easily, or is once a day pretty much it?”

“I don’t think that a problem,” I answered. “I’m 18.”

“Okay, then lets say we take care of this guy and then get into more advanced stuff after we dry off?” she asked, as she grabbed some lotion and loaded her hands with it. She moved around to my back and started a reach around, crushing her breasts in my back.

“O….,” was all I could get out before her hands began a systematic milking of my cock.

She wasn’t fooling around this time. Her hands took turns running the length of my cock with a tight, smooth and steady motion.

Talk about doing it great! She soon had me sending rope after rope of spunk against the wall.

“Good pressure!” she said, urging me on.

After I was done, she handed me a towel and said, “Go ahead out and finish drying off while I clean up in here.”

It was now about 10:30 and I wasn’t sure if it was bedroom time or TV time. She came out of the bathroom, and game me the ‘follow me’ sign as she entered her bedroom. I followed her in.

It was all done in pink, with small plush animals scattered everywhere, especially the bed. She really was just a little girl at heart.

She tossed the critters, and pulled down the spread. She motioned for me to get in her queen-sized bed. When she got in, she put her arms around me and kissed me for a long time.

“I want to thank you for dinner, tonight,” she said, as she released me from the kiss. “No one has ever taken me to a place like that before. I’m glad you ordered for me, because I didn’t know what the stuff was on the menu.”

“Maybe I should have called the waiter over for both of us,” I thought to myself.

We hugged, kissed, and caressed each other in a relaxed manner for quite a while. I had always assumed you jumped in the sack and went for it. This was actually quite nice.

My hand eventually found it’s way to her womanhood. She was very wet with excitement. She reached down to me and found that I had recovered and was ready to go.

“Have you reached ‘home base’ yet, Ben?” she asked, softly.

If I had lied, she would have known it.

“No,” I said, feeling stupid.

“Obviously, I’m no virgin,” she said. “Would you like me to be your first girl?”

“Yes,” I said, clumsily rolling on top of her.

“Ben, wait,” she said, pushing me back off. “Did you bring protection?”

“Protection? Oh! No I didn’t,” I said feeling even more stupid.

“Where you just going to make a baby, here?” she asked, realizing that I was totally clueless in this regard.

“I suppose that I thought you had taken care of that issue,” I answered.

“Remember honey, you’re the first guy I’ve been with in a long time. No need for me to keep birth control around with that kind of dry spell,” she said, patting my cheek. “You’ll have to wait to become a man.”

I sighed and rolled over on my back.

“Hey, don’t be sad. There are lots of things we can do besides that.” She said, cheerfully. “Here’s a way to please a woman,” she said getting up on her knees. “Works like a charm,” she said, as she straddled my face, grabbed my hands, held them to her breasts, and lowered herself on my mouth.

Startled, I didn’t know what to do. She wiggled herself around a little bit and finally said, “Just stick your tongue out and start licking that little nub there. Yes! That’s it. Now just lick that over and over.”

I did what I was told. She rocked herself back and forth over my mouth as I licked as fast as I could. I continued to knead her breasts as she started to moan. She rocked faster and faster, grabbing the headboard to steady herself so I wasn’t crushed.

She sucked in her breath, stopped rocking, rammed herself down on my mouth, and cut loose a moan that had to have been heard three houses down. Luckily, I had inhaled myself sensing something going to happen, otherwise I would have blacked out by the time she let me breath. She rolled off me and flopped down on the bed. She blew some blonde hair out of her face and wiped her eyes.

“Wow,” was all she could manage to say. She rolled her head to look at me and started laughing. “You are unbelievably good. I’m sorry if I squished you.”

I was rubbing my nose; it had taken a beating at the end there. We talked and giggled about stupid things while she recovered. Finally, she said, “I’ve never had a complaint about pleasing a guy this way.”

She started kissing me on the face, and worked her way down my neck, my chest, and finally to my groin.

“I can see that somebody figured out what’s coming,” she said, in a singsong manner, then giggled.

I tucked a pillow under my head so I could watch the show.

She started kissing at my balls, and worked her way up the shaft to the head.

“This is going to be what’s called a ‘no-hands’ blow job. Just when you think everything is going fine, you’re going to cum like a fountain. At least, that’s the way it’s been explained to me,” she said, as she winked at me.

Her tongue started to slide up and down the shaft. It was an incredible feeling. She stopped at the head from time to time, circling it, and tonguing the hole. Eventually, she lowered her mouth on me. She slid her lips up and down as far as she could go, while swirling her tongue continuously. It felt good, but not so good as to make me cum. Or so I thought. She never changed her slow pace. Her lips and tongue continued their gentle assault on me when I suddenly felt a tingle in my balls. “Uh oh, she was right.” I thought. The tingle grew in intensity, my balls retracted, and for the second time that night, a load of sperm raced up and out of me. She continued until she had sucked me dry.

Finally she let me out of her mouth with a small plop and asked, “Well, was it as good as advertised?”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied, exhausted.

We both slept well that night.

The next day, I reached Dawn’s house with her work, and a box of protection. When she answered the door, she looked a little pale.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I went in.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to postpone your initiation for about a week,” she said.

It took me a second to figure out what she meant when it hit me.

“No problem,” I said. “I like being with you one way or the other.”

“Boy, you really are one-of-a-kind,” she said, giving me a hug.

The next day, she was looking better.

“How about a movie?” I asked.

“What’s playing?” she asked, looking through the workload I had brought over.

“The Towering Inferno,” I replied.

“Ohhh, I loooove Steve McQueen,” she answered.

The movie had been out for a while by the time we went. We sat in a corner in the back, just in case someone we knew was also there. By the time Robert Wagner was trying to save his hide with a wet towel around his head, Dawn had slid her hand up to my crotch. I looked over at her, and she stared at the screen. She worked my zipper down, and fished out my rapidly expanding manhood. Without saying a word or even acknowledging my presence, she ate popcorn with one hand and jacked me off with the other. It was a good thing that no one was in front of me, because the first shot cleared the back of the seat. She caused me to make quite a mess. She reached into her purse and handed me a couple of tissues, all without ever taking her eyes off the screen.

“Holy shit,” I said, taking the tissues and cleaned myself up.

“Shhhh,” she said, staring at the screen, grinning.

The next two days came and went without anything notable happening. One night she cooked, the other we went to McDonalds. I went home every night. On Friday, she said she was feeling much better and to bring my ‘supplies’ if I wanted to be initiated on either Saturday or Sunday.

I gave her an extra day to recuperate and arrived on Sunday.

She already had the championship game on for me, and handed me a beer. It was obvious that she was cooking up a storm in the kitchen. Whatever she was making, it sure smelled good.

“I hope you like lamb,” she said, returning to the kitchen.

“So do I,” I said to myself.

Soon the game was over and dinner was ready. I have to say, lamb did taste different. It took a minute or two to get used to it, then I chowed in.

“I’m glad you like it. I was getting worried there for a moment,” she said.

After dinner, we finished watching the second championship game, setting up The Super Bowl. When it was over, she patted me on the head, and said, “It’s time.”

I was more nervous than excited. She turned the living room lights out as she went into the bathroom, and I stripped and got into bed. When she came out she was completely naked. She turned the bedroom light out and slipped into the sheets.

We began to kiss and caress each other. After a few minutes, she reached down to find a completely limp me.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

She worked on me for a few more minutes.

Nothing.

“Something has got to be wrong.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” I finally said.

“Afraid you’re going to mess up?” she asked.

My silence spoke volumes.

“Look, I’ve already done this before. It’s your first time. You do it anyway you want. We’ll worry about making it good down the road. Just enjoy yourself,” she said, stroking my face.

That helped a little as I relaxed a bit and she started to get results down below. When I was good and hard, she reached to the nightstand and grabbed one of the condoms I brought. She fitted me with it and then positioned me for my first time.

I looked down at her, she kissed me and told me to relax. She opened her legs, held my cock and gently slid me in. Her womanhood felt like a snug fitting velvet glove. I remained still for a few moments, savoring the feeling for first time.

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This is a new story. Probably just a one shot…. but that’s up to you, the readers.

Enjoy, and please tell me what you think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yo, Buff…. How was the ride in today?” she heard as she walked into her lab. She smiled, flashing her usual thousand watt display of perfect white teeth at Teddy, her assistant. She had known him for several years, all the way back to high school, which is where the nickname began.

She was fourteen when the show began on TV, and the coincidental similarity of names made the ‘Buffy’ moniker a natural inevitability. Being blonde as well made it a certainty.

Dr. Sarah Michelle Horton, then just plain old Sarah, took the name in stride. It started with one of her friends, and just blossomed from there, until more people called her Buffy than her given name. Even a few of her teachers joined in, and since it wasn’t used in a derogatory fashion, she just accepted it. Now it was an inside joke…. a term of endearment between friends.

Lots had changed since then, besides the cancellation of the show. Sarah had grown up.

That was an understatement, to say the least.

As a slightly outcast science geek in high school, she had just begun to develop when the show started. A late bloomer, her body had made up for its apparent reluctance to mature by blessing her with height and a killer figure by the time she went to college. She may not have been the vampire slayer of her namesake, but many a young man’s heart had been victim to her beauty. Just watching her walk by would cause pulses to race.

Being a devastating sight to behold was, of course, a double edged sword. While in school, she had been happy to flaunt her curves, and watch the boys…. and male teachers…. trip over themselves.

That changed during graduate school. She was among the brightest in her class, but found she wasn’t being taken seriously by her mostly male counterparts. She began to dress in a way that camouflaged her figure somewhat. She changed her hair, wearing it up in a tight bun; she wasn’t willing to cut it, as she loved her long waves of blonde perfection, and there was more to life than work. If anything, it made the off-duty Sarah even more eye catching. Downplaying her obvious femininity was harder than it sounded, but had eventually allowed her to get the respect she deserved.

Now, she was a full fledged physicist, doing work that had been deemed classified for the government. A quantum leap from her humble beginnings, she had arrived.

Well, almost.

No longer needing to disguise herself in an effort to get ahead, she had allowed her inner sexuality to reassert itself. Other than her hair, which she still wore up in the lab, she dressed in a manner more befitting her sex. Slacks were replaced by skirts. Most of her colleagues were supportive.

Actually, there was only one fly in the ointment; her boss…. an old school, misogynistic prick who took every opportunity to put her in the place he thought she belonged. Under him, in all but the literal sense, although it was clear he would welcome that as well.

“Not bad Teddy,” Sarah said happily, retrieving her lab coat from her locker.

In the past, she had used that basic, utilitarian garment to hide her distinctive hourglass shape. It hadn’t been easy; anything that fit her body wouldn’t close over her ample chest, and those that accommodated her bustline fit the rest of her like a garbage bag. Neither was comfortable.

Since her assignment here, she had solved the problem, having several of the coats tailored to allow for a more appropriate fit. She slipped into one now, and buttoned it up. It wasn’t a snug fitting cut, but did allow her to remind others she was a woman.

Teddy always asked how her trip in was. She suspected it had become more of a habit question than a genuine interest.

Truthfully, she hardly remembered the commute in to work most days. She got on the subway pretty early in its loop, so usually had no problem getting a seat. She would sit, long legs crossed, doing a crossword or sudoku in the paper, barely aware of the eyes that caressed her from afar.

On the rare occasion that forced her to stand, she was more cognisant of those around her. Men checking out the rack on the tall blonde. Men ogling her ass in her skirt. She didn’t really mind. She wasn’t asking for their respect, and it made her feel sexy…. and a little wet.

“Bishop wants to see you,” Teddy said solemnly. “He’s such an asshole. He knows exactly what time you get here, but he has to make it sound like you’re late, even when you’re not.”

“Thanks, Teddy,” she exhaled. “I’ll go see what he wants, this time.” She turned on her heels, and walked out, heading down the hallway and up the stairs to her superior’s office.

I know quite well what he wants, she thought. If he ever has an actual work reason for calling me to his office, I swear I’ll faint. No, it’s just the usual morning opportunity to undress me with deneme bonusu veren siteler his eyes. It wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so obvious about it, and he wasn’t such an old, lecherous bastard, and….. Oh hell, I’m here….

She stopped outside the door. ‘Dr. Edwin Bishop’, the raised gold lettering said. Even the door was arrogant.

Sarah took a deep breath, and smoothed her hair. She relaxed her face. She had found that she needed to maintain an icy cool aire around him, lest she smile and inadvertently encourage his attention further. It was largely successful, but had one unfortunate side effect. She knocked, and opened the door.

“Ah, there you are Seven. Come in please,” the older scientist said, his voice dripping with both contempt and lecherous intent.

I fucking hate that name, and you know it, she inwardly cursed as she stepped in.

Unlike ‘Buffy’, which had been started by friends and had no negative emotions attached, the ‘Seven’ designation drew nothing but hatred from her. She knew the reference…. to Jeri Ryan’s character on Star Trek : Voyager…. and knew why he used the name. Top heavy, tall and blonde, the two women had that much in common. Sarah had unwittingly added to the comparison by adopting a cold, emotionless persona around him, and styling her hair at work in a similar vein, just like the Borg character. If it had been anyone but him saying it, she might have taken it as a compliment. After all, Seven of Nine was pretty hot.

“You wanted to see me?” she said.

The second she uttered the words, she instantly regretted choosing that particular phrase. She saw his eyes dart down from her face to linger on her full, round breasts. Even completely obscured by the smooth, white fabric of her coat, they held his attention. She could only imagine the filthy thoughts that were racing through his mind. It made her skin crawl.

You’re undressing me again. You’d like to do it for real, huh? I’m sure you would, you disgusting asshole. I’ve half a mind to just show you what you’ve been dreaming about some day. You want to see me naked? You can’t handle me naked! You’d have a heart attack.

As expected, this ‘meeting’ had nothing to do with the experiment they were currently planning. Oh, sure, he droned on and on about this detail and that procedure, but it was nothing he hadn’t mentioned before, and hardly worth harping on over and over. He couldn’t think she didn’t know what he was doing, could he? Could anyone be that dense? He didn’t even try to hide his furtive glances at her form.

At last, he appeared to have had enough of his morning leering session, and dismissed her, obviously watching her ass as well. Sarah closed the door behind her, and shuddered.

“Oh, how I loathe you,” she whispered, and went back to the lab.

***

The ride home today had been a very trying experience.

She had been running a few minutes behind her usual clearly defined schedule, and as a result, was forced to stand, packed like sardines on the train. Bodies pressed against her from all sides, some obviously enjoying the contact a little too much. The guy in front of her was shorter than her six foot, high heeled height, and spent the entire trip staring at her chest.

I’m up here, she thought. Take a picture, it’ll last longer. Jesus, pal, they’re just breasts. Try not to drool on them. Imagine how you’d behave if I was displaying them. They’re real, and they’re spectacular!

Finally free of the crowd, Sarah listened to the brisk, rhythmic click – clack of her heels on the concrete sidewalk as she wove her way the two blocks from the station to her apartment building. Stepping into the lobby, she relaxed, and went to retrieve her mail.

Nothing of consequence awaited her in the little pigeonhole marked 9E, so she sauntered over and pressed the button for the elevator.

Waiting patiently, she soon found herself with company.

The trip home had put her in a foul mood, and right now, she was ready to paint the entire male portion of the species with the same brush as she would use for Edwin Bishop, and the asshole on the subway. So, when a sideways glance revealed her new ‘friend’ to be a man, she silently bristled.

The door opened with a soft chime, and ‘he’ gestured to her.

“Ladies first,” he said gently.

“Um, thank you,” Sarah replied, taken aback by his unexpected gallantry. She stepped in quickly, and hit the button for the ninth floor, then watched him follow suit. He looked at her and smiled, then stepped back, giving her space. More specifically…. he looked at her face, not her body, and she noticed.

“What floor?” she asked.

“Nine as well,” he nodded.

The doors closed, and the elevator whisked them up to the ninth floor. The chime signalled their arrival. Once again, he gestured for her to precede him.

Sarah turned left, and walked past 9A and 9C, before reaching her door. She put the key in the lock, then turned her head, curious fransız ruleti where he had gone. She saw him, at the door of 9B, doing the same.

He nodded courteously, and disappeared into his apartment.

His behaviour was so out of place with what she had been exposed to all day, that she couldn’t help noticing…. and wondering who he was?

***

Inside 9B, Paul Hadley leaned back against the door, and exhaled loudly.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Did you see her?” he asked himself redundantly. “With my luck, she’s either married, or a lesbian,” he shook his head, and hung up his keys on the hook beside the doorway.

His apartment was still a sea of boxes, but he’d only been here two days, so it was a work in progress. The kitchen was no further along than the rest of the place.

Maybe he’d order pizza for dinner.

***

Sarah opened her door, and stepped out into the hallway. Closing the door behind her, she glanced over to the elevator. Her mystery man had just pushed the button. As she walked up, the door opened, and he made his now customary gesture.

“Thank you…. Again,” she smiled.

“Not at all,” he replied. The doors closed, and she felt the car descending.

“So…. 9B? New to the building?” she asked, turning to face him. She noticed his eyes again; they were brown, and they never left her face, even when she extended her hand. “I’m Sarah,” she introduced herself.

“Paul,” he answered, taking her hand, “and yes, just moved in a couple of days ago.”

“Well Paul,” she nodded, returning his firm grip, “welcome to the building. I hope you enjoy it.”

I do already, he thought. His peripheral vision caught a hint of cleavage, and the swell of what appeared to be two very nice breasts. Do not stare at the tits, he reminded himself. Some women don’t like that.

At the lobby, Sarah exited, while Paul continued down to the garage. She would have to talk to him about that next time they met.

***

A couple of days later she got her chance, on the return trip. Sarah was at her mailbox, getting the day’s dispatches, when Paul appeared from the garage stairwell.

“We simply must stop meeting like this,” he laughed. “People will talk.”

“Hi Paul,” she giggled. “So…. you drive to work?” she asked, shifting the conversation to the question she wanted answered.

“Yes. I take it you do not,” he replied. “I don’t like being tied to a schedule. I understand though. Not everyone likes driving.”

“Oh no, I love driving…. It’s driving in this city traffic I don’t like. Don’t even get me started on parking,” she smiled.

“No argument there,” he nodded, closing his mailbox door. “I guess my mail hasn’t caught up with me yet. Anything good in yours?”

“Just the usual…. One bill, some junk, a pizza coupon. Got one from my alumni committee,” she replied, fanning out the handful. It let him see her name.

“Dr. Sarah Michelle Horton?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Doctor of what? Ear, nose and throat?”

“More like electrons, neutrons, and quarks,” she smiled. “Although, since ears, noses and throats are made of cells, and those cells are made from molecules, which are made up of electrons, neutrons, and protons…. so in a way, yes.”

“Sarah Michelle, huh? You know, there was this show, years ago….” he probed.

“Hmmm, yes…. Buffy, the Vampire Slayer…. Sarah Michelle Gellar…. I’m aware. I’ve been ‘Buffy’ to friends ever since,” she giggled. The elevator arrived, and they got on.

“I have the whole series on DVD…. somewhere in a box. You should come over and watch it sometime,” he suggested, then realized he was probably overstepping to boundaries of their very new relationship. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I know we’ve only met recently, and you don’t know me from a hole in the ground. Besides, a woman as beautiful as you is probably married.”

Sarah was a little stunned. It wasn’t the first part that surprised her; lots of guys who hardly know her hit on her. What surprised her was the apology, and being called beautiful.

Truthfully, she was feeling a little lonely. It had been months since she had a date, and longer since her last boyfriend of any consequence. Maybe Paul was just what she needed.

“Actually,” she said softly, “I could use a night of mindless fun. Oh, and I’m not married. How about tonight?” she asked.

It was Paul’s turn to be stunned now. He had been making smalltalk, and it just slipped out. He never expected her to say ‘yes’, and certainly didn’t think she’d say it tonight.

“Um, yeah…. tonight is fine. I’m sure I can find it, if I put my mind to it. Give me an hour to tidy up? I’m still unpacking,” he replied. They had arrived at the ninth floor.

“Okay. Hey! We can used my pizza coupon!” she laughed. “I’ll bring some wine. One hour.”

She walked to her door, and unlocked it, casting a parting glance in his direction. He was still walking, his back to her, so he mobil rulet couldn’t see her girlish smile before she darted inside.

Once the door was closed, she started talking to herself.

“Sarah,” she whispered, “What have you done? He’s right, you hardly know him, but…. Sure, he’s pretty handsome, but there’s no need to be all flustered like you are. It’s just a night of entertainment, that’s all. Just a night of mindless fun….in a man’s apartment. Calm down.” Her heart was pounding. Despite her urging and conscious efforts to convince herself it was nothing serious, her body was betraying her. She was excited.

“I need a shower,” she sighed, and headed in that direction.

***

Inside Paul’s apartment, he was rummaging through boxes frantically.

“I should have been more organized,” he grumbled, and moved on to the next box.

“Ah! Eureka!” he cheered, holding the box set aloft triumphantly. “Now, clean up a little, and hit the shower.”

***

Sarah was standing under the warm stream of water, feeling it relax her slowly. The bar of soap in her hand left a trail of soapy suds in its wake as she ran her hands over her body. She was feeling more than just relaxation.

The soap lubricated her hands, which were sliding freely across her voluptuous curves. She tilted her head back in the spray, and moaned softly, caressing her breasts, her belly, and the tempting depression of her pudendal cleft.

She didn’t really know what had gotten into her. Masturbating in the shower just wasn’t her style, and doing it over a guy she hardly knew was really confusing. Maybe she had been keeping her sexual side buried a little too deeply, and now it was bubbling to the surface like lava, an unstoppable force.

One hand was busy stroking the smooth lips of her pussy, while the other alternately tugged her nipples.

“Oh god,” she breathed, her voice quivering with the approach of her orgasm. “Oh…. Oh god, yes,” she whispered, her hands moving faster. “Oh fuck! Gnahhhnnnnn!”

Her legs shook, and her body was wracked with spasms of bliss. It was a much needed release, and left her bent over, her hands braced on her knees, as the water streamed over her, pulling her long blonde hair straight on its way to the drain. She sputtered, and reached up blindly, turning the water colder, to clear her head, and quench any residual urges.

“Oooooooooo!” she gasped sharply in the icy blast. Her nipples, already erect, pulled tighter at the cold sensation. “That’s enough,” she shivered, and turned it off.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she wandered into the bedroom, and opened the closet door. She felt warm, and very relaxed, so her wardrobe choice reflected it; her favourite jeans hugged her ass snugly, with a black satin blouse covering her ample chest. It allowed a variable amount of cleavage to be displayed, according to her mood.

She dried and brushed her hair, arranging it in a casual but attractive style, hanging to the middle of her back. Looking in the mirror, the Sarah that peered back at her was the polar opposite of work Sarah. She smiled and pulled a bottle of wine out of the cupboard. Heading out the door, she grabbed the pizza coupon from her pile of mail.

***

Paul was dressed, and sitting quietly in his living room. His head was still spinning a little from his shower.

Well, actually, it wasn’t the shower…. It was what he did in the shower. One thing’s for sure; his dick was very clean. The prospect of his incredibly sexy, statuesque neighbour spending time with him tonight had been more than he could ignore. Rather than embarrass himself in her presence, he had performed a preemptive strike.

A knock on the door woke him up quickly. He leapt up, and answered it, hoping it didn’t make him appear too eager.

“Enter, please,” he smiled, as he opened the door. That was before he really saw her. Oh my god, he thought, she’s even hotter like this. His eyes flitted across her slightly open neckline briefly, before he wrestled them back up to her face. “Wow,” he gasped. “Sarah, you look incredible. Definitely the prettiest nuclear physicist I’ve ever seen.”

“Um, thank you,” she giggled. Thank you for noticing, she thought, and I saw your eyes checking me out. I guess that means you’re not gay. Good news. I kind of like you.

She stepped in cautiously, handing the bottle to him. He took it, and directed her into the living room.

This room had been pretty much set up, and was devoid of boxes. Paul had a big, comfy leather couch, and the obligatory big screen TV, in the 60 inch range.

“I suppose we should order dinner before we start the Buffy marathon,” Paul suggested. “Pizza, you said?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” she replied. “I only suggested it because I had the coupon in my hand,” she added, fishing the slip of paper out of her back pocket.

“Pizza works for me,” he nodded. “Please tell me you’re not one of those vegetarian girls? I don’t think I can handle tofu on my pizza.”

“Oh yes. Tofu, bean sprouts, pineapple….” she answered, looking at the sour face he was making. She burst out laughing. “Vegetarian? Me? Hell, no! Must have meat! Pepperoni…. sausage…. bacon…. ground beef. No anchovies, though,” she giggled, making a face of her own. “Hate anchovies.”

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We met today for a lunchtime tryst. Julia and I can’t seem to get enough of each other, but we have to be careful. She has to always be conscious of how it looks to her family and co-workers. Lunch times are her own and always have been, so it’s the least questionable time. She is comfortable with at least one lunch a week, but this week she wanted two. We decided we can only risk the full on dinner date once a month, as much as we would enjoy it more often; but then we can savor it.

Today I didn’t have class, so I could prepare for her. At our earlier “lunches” we would try to sit and talk, but the conversation would quickly cease and we’d end up tangled on the couch in pretty short order. How silly of us. Unless one or the other us indicates differently, we decided to forgo the pretense of sitting down. Today I met her at the door in a silk robe. Julia smiled, “Mmmm. Don’t you look like a nice lunch?”

She wasted no time in pulling the front open while she kissed me, cupping my breast. She tastes so good. Her lips soft and pillowy. She finished the kiss and lead me to the bedroom. I had fresh sheets on the bed. Candles were burning and the curtains were drawn. “Thank you Shera. This is very nice,” she almost purred.

“I wanted to make it nice for us since it’s not very often we can be together,” I replied.

Eagerly, I undid the buttons on her blouse, pausing to kiss her breast and downward with every open button. She stroked my hair and breathed deeply. “Ahhhh. So sweet. You are so sweet.”

Never having much patience because lunch time always seemed to go at light speed, she quickly removed her clothes and slid the robe off my shoulders.

“Sweetheart, sit down like this on the bed,” she demonstrated.

We sat open legged on the bed facing each other. “I want to watch you masturbate.”

I obliged. I had no inhibitions with Julia. I stroked my clit and finger fucked, slowly at first. Her watching me only increased my excitement. My clit was hard and engorged. I was so excited, it didn’t take long to work myself into a shattering climax, my pussy pulsing as I came. “That was just what I wanted to see. I wanted to watch your face as you came. To see how you pleasure yourself.”

“It’s your turn. I want to watch you,” I said. She simultaneously rubbed her clit and inserted her fingers. I watched as she masturbated, something I had never done before. It was mesmorizing. She was approaching her climax. “Please,” I stopped her before she came, I wanted to taste her so badly. To consume her. She stopped. I pressed my face into her pussy and licked letting my tongue penetrate just ever so slightly. She shook as I did this. Her legs squeezing me. I sucked in her clit, like a slurpy, making sucking noises in the room.

She moaned, “yes Shera, like that, don’t stop.” I wanted her to cum. I sucked more and inserted two fingers, moving in and out of her. “Ahhhhhhh, yes!” She lost control and came fucking into my face.

“Julia, we are out of time. We need to get you dressed and back to work,” I told her. We had no more time, but I wasn’t disappointed. I got to taste her and make her cum. We got her cleaned up so she could return to work. “How can you go back to work after this? I always want to lay down and sleep.” I would do just that once she left. To bask in the afterglow.

“I manage, but I’m not worth much. Uzun porno When I know I’m coming here for our lunch, I do the most demanding work in the morning. It makes that part of the day go faster too,” she laughed. “Come here dear one,” she asked. We kissed fiercely. “I’ll see you soon, call you later today.” She was out the door.

It would be several days before we could be together again, except for maybe some coffee groping. My mom would be arriving next weekend too. I didn’t know how we would handle that. We would have to talk about it. I wasn’t jealous in the least, in fact, I was happy my mom had another release for her sexuality. What could that lead to?

Julia called that afternoon. “Shera, we need to talk about your mom. I can’t talk here on the phone and I didn’t want to waste our time today. Meet me for coffee tomorrow at 10:00 a.m.? Can you do that,” she asked.

“Yes… I have a break until 11:00. I’ll be there,” I said.

At 10:00 a.m., Julia walked in. She ordered at the counter and came over to sit with me. I had chosen the most secluded booth. She got right to it. “Shera, your mom and I have had a long relationship. We were each other’s first woman, I’ve told you that. I wouldn’t hurt her for anything, I hope you know.”

“Yes, I trust that you wouldn’t,” I said. I didn’t know where this was going. What did she intend to do?

“Good,” she answered. “She will be here next weekend for your visit. She called and asked if there was a chance for her and I to be together. I’m supposed to see if you will be away for work. She felt awkward about asking so I volunteered to find out. Of course I already know, you won’t be working, but I didn’t want to tell her that. Shera, you know I care for you very much, but I do your mother as well. I don’t want to disappoint her. Can you live with this?”

“Julia,” I smiled. “Please don’t worry about that. She was with you before me and for a long time now. I know where I fit. I’ve thought about it before now and I’m happy she has you.”

She exhaled. She must have been so worried. She reached out and took my hand. “I’m so relieved. I don’t want to hurt either of you. I jumped into our affair without thinking through what I would do when this situation came up. I’m glad you are OK with this.”

“Yes, Julia I am just fine,” I patted her hand and reassured her.

We agreed I would be at work for a while when my mom visited. Julia would speak to my mom and tell her when.

Knowing this, I could make some plans of my own.

It was Saturday. My mom had arrived last night. We spent the evening together talking, laughing and having dinner. “I’m so happy to be here with my baby,” she had said as she came in the door.

In the morning we made plans for “after I got off work.” Of course I wasn’t going to work that day. “What will you do while I’m gone? Clean?” I laughed at her. No matter how clean the place was, she always could find something to clean.

“No! I promise. The place will be just as you left it. Every dust bunny in its place. Hahahaha,” she laughed. She knew I was picking on her. “I’m going out to see Julia for lunch as a matter of fact.” She said it, too matter fact for me not to notice her excitement. Or was I reading into it?

“Great! I’m so glad you will get to visit with her.” I smiled and hugged her as I left.

I Öğrenci porno went shopping and to the park for a while. I knew Julia would be there at 11:00. It was 11:30 now. I went back to my place. I had thought about this since I knew what they were planning. I debated, was it right to do as I intended? I couldn’t help myself. I had to.

I went home. I slipped quietly into the apartment. I walked silently to my room and could smell them before I got to the door, the heady perfume of their sex wafted through the air. I got low and peeked through the door. They were on the bed. My mom on top of Julia. They were embracing, grinding their pelvises together. I was instantly hot and wet. I watched. I heard their sighs and murmurs.

“Ahhhhhhh, how I missed this. Too long away,” my mom was saying.

“Yesssss, Lily. Mmmmmmm, please stroke my pussy. You’ve been teasing me too much. Make me cum,” urged Julia. My mom did as she asked. Her hand rubbing Julia’s nearly hairless mound and then her fingers finding her clit. She slid across it in what sounded like exquisite wetness. Julia humped and writhed under mom’s hand. “Yessssss, ohhhhhh please, faster, God Lily, ohhhhhhhh yesssssss, ahhhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Julia came. Her body shuddered. Her hips slowed.

I had my fingers up my skirt. I had been busy myself, masturbating. That was the hottest scene I had ever witnessed. I came quietly, but completely. My pussy was soaking wet. I had to sit back in the hall to gain composure. Then I peeked again. They shift positions. Julia was between my mother’s legs.

She had started licking. I was overcome, knowing how that felt and seeing it done to my mom. “Oh Julia. I missed that. I never get it at home.” She pushed her head back into the pillows and arched her back, pushing her pussy at Julia. Julia lapped and sucked at her. The noise filling the air, their aroma too. I was getting woozy. I crept a bit more into the room. More sighs from mom. Then, “oh Julia, please there, yessssssss, don’t stop, don’t stop. OHhhhhhhhhh yessssssss… yesssssssssss… AHHHHHH.” She came and I did too. Without touching myself. I closed my eyes and rode the waves. My pussy hot and wet. On fire.

I realized too late, I was caught. I opened my eyes and they were both looking at me.

“Shera?!” They both said it at the same time.

I could hardly think what to do next. What could I say? I was burned. Julia would be very angry with me. She would worry about this hurting my mom. I might have just fucked up everything.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” I stammered. “It’s OK. I won’t tell. I don’t think badly of you. Please relax.”

They were both in shock. They hadn’t regained the power of speech as quickly as I. Both of them moved so that they were sitting up on the edge of the bed. I stood and walked over to them. I sat down next to my mom. “It’s OK. Really. I don’t want you to worry Mom. Please.” I hugged her and rubbed her back. Julia looked stunned, like she was waiting to see what was next.

Mom was shaking now. “Honey.” She tried to speak.

“Shhhhhhhh. Please. I don’t want you feel bad or worry. I understand.” Looking into her eyes, I smiled. She tried to look at me. Tears were welling up in her eyes. “No, don’t.” I smiled at her again, trying to put her at ease. I lifted her chin with my hand and kissed her cheek. Then, I couldn’t help it. I kissed her lips. It seemed natural and I really wanted to. She stiffened. I kissed her again, longer this time. She didn’t yield very much. I reached out to Julia with my hand. She scooted closer to Mom.

I took Julia’s hand and put it on Mom’s shoulder. Julia put her other arm around the other shoulder. I smiled at her again. She looked almost ill. I tried again. I kissed each cheek and stroked her hair. Putting my hand around the back of her head I kissed her lips again. I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but it felt OK to me. Julia leaned in and kissed her cheeks too.

Mom looked alarmed now. Julia noticed. “Lily. Shhhhhh… trust us. It’s OK.” She looked Mom in the eyes and kissed her. “Lily, Shera would never hurt you and you know I wouldn’t either.” She gently eased Mom back on the bed. I climbed up next to her face and lay down next to her. Again I stroked her hair and face, like she had stroked mine as a child. I was trying to soothe her. Julia was lying next to us now on the other side of Mom. She was doing much the same. She started to kiss Mom lightly, tiny kisses around her face and neck.

This was working. Mom exhaled. Julia kept it up and I let my hand move down Mom’s body. She was still a beautiful woman. She had given birth twice but it wasn’t painfully obvious. She wasn’t as tight and taught as she probably had been 20 years ago, but she was fit. Her tits were nice B+’s, not quite C’s. I lightly touched her boobs. She flinched but Julia kept her distracted.

I played with her nipples, tweaking them. They were wonderful. I couldn’t help it, I stuck my tongue out and licked. She was my mother and I had nursed at her breasts, but this turned me on. I clamped down on it and sucked. Ohhhhh God. I thought I would cum again.

“Shera,” Mom tried to speak. “Shera, please don’t do something you might regret.”

“Mom, I won’t go any farther if you might regret this. I know I won’t.”

She looked at both of us. Time ticked. She grabbed my head and pushed it back on her chest. She seized Julia and kissed her. We had our answer.

I sucked and played with Mom’s breasts. They were wonderful. I squeezed them and pinched the nipples. Her nipples dark rosy pink, the areola a bit darker. I didn’t know how to do it, but I thought I might get some milk out of them. I didn’t, but Mom seemed to appreciate the effort. “Shera, that feels so good.”

Julia had her hand around Mom’s pussy. Mom was not shaven as Julia was, and I had recently done, but it was trimmed, like for a bathing suit. She massaged her thigh, edging closer and closer to the pleasure zone until she was fingering her. “Ahhhhhhhh… yessssssssss,” Mom moaned. I was so turned on. I wanted some pussy. I didn’t know how far to go. I didn’t want to spook her. So I calmed myself and kept to playing with her tits.

Julia had Mom’s pussy covered with her mouth. She worked Mom good. Sucking her clit in like she was getting the last drop at the bottom of a cup of soda. Mom had her hands on Julia’s head, rhythmically fucking into Julia’s face. “Julia, ohhhhhh, yesssss… I’m gonna cummmmmmm… yes… more… more… ahhhhhh… ahhhhhh… AHHHHHH!”

She looked so beautiful and happy at that moment. I kissed her deeply. She stiffened a bit, then went with it. “Mom, I love you. I want to see you happy. Thank you for letting me be part of this.” I kissed her again.

Julia looked at me and smiled. I knew it was going to be OK between us too.

“Lily, we’ve had our fun, can we help out Shera? Would that be ok?”

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Joey was late for school, after he arrived he got summoned to Mrs. Cameron’s ,the school principal, office. When he arrived at the principal’s office he was made to wait inside her office. As Joey was looking around he saw pictures of Mrs. Cameron in various poses of receiving awards and he kind of liked the way she dressed on those pictures.

Mrs. Gretchen Cameron was the principal of the local high school as she has been for the past ten years. She’s in her late 50’s but you wouldn’t notice her age just by looking at her. She had a trim and beautiful body, with her creamy soft skin covering her firm and tender breasts, her long slender legs accentuated perfectly her sumptuous figure and to top it all off her angelic face made her even look sexier. Although you can see some wrinkles on her face but you tend to overlook them due to Mrs. Cameron’s kind disposition and caring attitude. Mrs. Gretchen Cameron was a very classy lady she has been married to the same man for 35 years and she has already two grandchildren.

As Mrs. Cameron entered her office Joey greeted her

“Good Morning Mrs. Cameron.” “Oh its you again Joey may I know what brings you here.” Mrs. Cameron asked Joey.

“Oh I’m just here to get my tardiness pass ma’am?” Joey replied.

“Joey you are late again?” Mrs. Cameron asked with a hint of her getting angry. “This is the 5th time this month!” Mrs. Cameron proclaimed getting ready to lash out at Joey.

Joey sensing the impending punishment he was to have rubbed the medallion inside his pocket and then said

“Mrs. Cameron I want you to sit down and write down my tardiness pass” Joey commanded her.

Gretchen was stunned by the young man’s arrogance but she could not refuse his command. As if on a trance she sat down and wrote down Joey’s tardiness pass.

As she was doing this Joey studied this very mature woman with her long sanal rulet creamy white legs crossed and then he looked at her face and he concluded that she must have been the prettiest girl in school when she was younger. And then Joey decided that she would be his next victim. As Gretchen Cameron handed the pass to Joey he got her hand and then told her

“Would you like to help me relieve myself, Mrs. Cameron?”

“What do you mean, Joey?” Gretchen asked Joey innocently but at the back of her mind she knew what Joey was asking for.

“I mean, I want you to jerk me off!” Joey confidently told her.

Gretchen was really surprised at what Joey was asking her to do, but she could not say no. She felt a shiver run through her as she heard the young man’s voice and she couldn’t get herself to turn down his request.

“Joey are you asking me to masturbate you?” Gretchen asked Joey trying earnestly to conceal her growing arousal. “Yes I want you to make me cum Mrs. Cameron.” Joey answered her, sensing that the old lady was beginning to come under his spell.

“Well, okay Joey sit down on the couch and wait for me here. ” Gretchen’s mind wanted to smack the boy but her body wouldn’t follow her as she acceded to the young man’s demand.

Gretchen went outside her office and told her secretary that she must not be disturbed for the next hour and then returned locking the door as she went in. By now Joey was sitting on the couch and waving at her to join him. Sitting next to Joey she asked him

“So what do I do now?” She innocently asked Joey as her vagina started to leak with her juices as she speculated on what her young student was up to.

“You can start by helping me take off my pants.”

Without hesitation she kneeled in front of Joey and then undid his trousers and pulled it out from under him. Gretchen was in awe when she saw blackjack Joey’s 10-inch cock.

Joey, sensing that this mature lady was hesitating, got her hand and guided it to his cock. Gretchen felt a stirring, piercing sensation between her legs as her hand made contact with his student’s cock. After gently wiping the pre-cum that oozed out from the tip of his cock she began to stroke his cock very gently ,sending the young man groaning in pleasure.

“Oooooohhhhhhh………Yeaaaaaaahhhhhhhh…..” Joey sounded off his approval.

Hearing the young man’s groan of appreciation, Gretchen felt a rush of delight emanate from her pussy as it enveloped her whole body. As Gretchen rode the wonderful sensations that she was experiencing she tightened her grip on the young man’s penis and started to stroke it a little bit faster bringing Joey to the brink of cumming but before he could cum he stopped Gretchen’s strokes and then

“Please take off your blouse, Mrs. Cameron.”

Gretchen hesitated for a while, she was quite reluctant on letting Joey see her naked. She wasn’t sure if the young boy would like to see her 58-year old body naked. Joey, sensing that there was hesitation on Mrs. Cameron’s part, stood up and gently raised her up and told her to continue stroking his cock. And then he gently kissed Gretchen on her cheeks and slowly unbuttoned her blouse one erotic button at a time. After he had finished with all the buttons he let the satin blouse slide off his mature victim’s body and was delightfully presented with her excited breasts, there was nothing wrong with her breast, to Joey it was just perfect. Having been presented with such an alluring bosom he gently played with one mound and then kissed the other. Gretchen had to restrain herself from screaming after she felt Joey’s hot tongue lick her rock hard nipples. Thrills wilder than any she’d ever imagined bingo was possible to feel were coursing through her. Joey’s gentle touches were bringing her closer to the edge of a fiery climax until

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhh……..Joeeyyyyyyyy……” Gretchen squealed as her body shuddered from the incredible sensations that ran through her anatomy.

Sensing what the mature lady was experiencing, Joey continued pleasuring her bosom as she rode the peaks and valleys of her orgasm. As they both sat down on the couch, Gretchen having fully extracted all the pleasure of her thunderous orgasm, continued to stroke Joey’s cock as he gently massaged her firm breasts. Then Joey reached down to Mrs. Cameron’s crotch area. As Gretchen felt Joey’s hand she stopped him and then told him

“I’m a married woman Joey, as much as I would like to let you do that, this is as far as I could go” Gretchen begged Joey

Having been separated from his medallion Joey retreated and continued his exploration of Mrs. Cameron’s mature bosom as the old lady tried her best to masturbate his ten-inch cock Joey was beginning to feel an orgasm welling up on his balls as powerful sensations, incredibly delightful ones rocketed through him.

“Ahhhhhh!!!!!” he moaned, as sound finally burst from him.

“Mrs. Cameron I’m cummmmminnng, Please jerk it faaaaaaaasterrrr!” Joey begged the old lady jerking him off.

After a few seconds Joey’s cock shot streams and streams of his semen in to Gretchen’s hand and then collapsed on her breast. Spent and shaken, Joey let himself fall back on the couch, straightening his legs, gasping for breath. He felt Mrs. Cameron’s hand slide away from his cock and glide gently down his leg running her fingers up and down his thigh. After a few seconds of silence Joey got up and stared at his latest victim she was exhausted too. Then Gretchen got up, got dressed then kissed Joey and tore the pass that she made for him and then kissed him on the cheek and then said

“Now be a good boy sweetie and return to your class.”

Joey got dressed and then went on his way thinking that he had to someplace, sometime fuck this sensuous woman.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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We entered the bathroom, removed our bath robes and dropped them on the chair in the corner. Becky leant over to put the plug in and turn on the side mounted mixer taps. The bath was ceramic and enormous and I watched my beautiful girlfriend as she poured in some bath foam.

As it was filling I remembered the strap-on and, putting my hand on her back, said, “Becky, I’ll just pop and get the toy. It will need cleaning again.”

She turned and I saw the mischievous smile on her face, and the beautifully arched eyebrow she raised. “Oh, so you think we might need it again, do you sweetie?”

I put my arms around her waist and pulled her to me. I would never tire of hugs with her, but naked hugs most of all were my favourite. Touching everywhere. We kissed and I said, “Oh god yes. I hope so.”

She pulled back and patted me affectionately on the bottom, a loving feeling rushed through me, “Off you go then. I need a pee.”

I went back into the bedroom and picked up the dildo and panty set. I took a moment and held it to my nose, savouring the scent of our lovemaking mixed with the lube. I smiled absently and walked back into the bathroom to find Becky just finishing on the toilet. She was reaching for the toilet tissue and in response I walked over and, without saying a word, placed the dildo in the sink and took the paper from her hands. She smiled as I knelt down and wiped between her legs. She was right. It wasn’t gross, it was loving.

I stood back up and she stood, flushed and turned, placing a little kiss on my lips.

“Thank you sweetie. You are completing me in ways I could never have imagined.”

I swelled with love and pride, looked deep into her beautiful eyes and said, “I have never felt this way about anyone. I am yours, heart and soul.”

We kissed again and she looked at the bath, which was now filled about half way, with bubbles from the bath foam making it appear almost full to the top. As she turned the water off she said, “Best we get in. Don’t want to waste all this lovely hot water.”

She stepped over and into the tub, and I followed suit. Facing each other and as if reflections of each other, we lowered ourselves into the water. It was deliciously warm and comforting. Becky leaned towards me and we ended up hugging and kissing, savouring the warmth.

Eventually Becky said, “Why don’t you turn round, sweetie? Rest against me between my legs.”

I loved the idea so I turned, pushed myself back and loved the feeling as her arms came around my waist. I could feel the press of her breasts in my back, and her hands resting just above my mound. She nuzzled my neck.

“Do you wear these earrings all the time, sweetie?”

For a moment I wondered what she was talking about and then realised I still had my hoop earrings in from Friday night.

I smiled, loving our closeness, “Well, not intentionally. I usually swap dress earrings for studs, but I don’t know, I seem to have had other things on my mind.”

She chuckled, saying, “And elsewhere,” and I felt the fingers of her right hand snake down through my bush and touch Chloe, who was loving the heat of the water, and the heat of me. Her other hand wandered up and she circled Pinky with her fingers. I sighed and leaned my head back as the combination of her kisses on my neck and her gentle touches filled me.

“Oh god, Becky. I love you. I want to touch you.”

“Shh, baby,” she said, “let Doctor Becky treat her sweetie.”

I closed my eyes and relaxed, feeling the warmth and pleasure gathering in me. As she circled my clit she started giving me a long kiss on my neck and pinched my nipple, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.

I could feel the warmth from the water, her fingers and mouth. It was that many centres of pleasure feeling, and I was suddenly aware that I was going to cum.

It started deep inside me, a moan that became almost feral. A growl. I started shaking in Becky’s arms. I could feel myself pushing back into her. My thighs clamped together as I felt the wonderful rush go right through me. I was in a new place, floating, the feelings extending and slowly letting me gently back down to earth. I felt a small peck from Becky as I became aware once more.

I pushed myself forward and turned, kneeling between Becky’s legs, leaning toward her and placing my arms around her neck. I kissed her and adored, once again, the softness of her lips against mine.

I pulled back and saw the love in her eyes and, smiling, said, “Well, that was just what the Doctor ordered.”

I brought myself upright and started to run my hand down to her breasts. I was a little surprised when she put her hand over mine and said, “No sweetie. Not now. You don’t always need to give me an orgasm when you’ve had one. I want that to be a special gift.”

“But Becky, I want to. You give me so much, I just want to…”

She placed a foamy finger on my lips, “And I want you to as well, sweetie. But later. Let’s not let the bath get cold.”

I smiled, “Okay then. You better really let me treat you later, or I might have to sulk.”

She giggled, Avrupalı porno “Oh no! I can’t let my sweetie sulk. I promise, later. Right, let’s wash. I need to shave my pits and legs.”

Feeling under my arms I said, “Yeah, me too. Uh, I don’t have my razor. Can I borrow yours?”

Becky smiled, “Of course you can sweetie. Let me go and get it.”

I was still kneeling so I kissed her, stood up and said, “No, it’s fine, let me.”

Still smiling she said, “It’s in the cabinet above the sink. There’s foam in there too.”

I got out of the bath and dripped across to the cabinet and got her razor and the can of cream, which I noticed was for sensitive skin. Lucky for me, since I can get a rash from almost anything stronger than soap.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, ‘nice arse.'”

I giggled and wiggled it, “So glad you like it. It is, of course, all yours.”

I got back in the bath and handed her the razor.

“Want me to do you, sweetie?”

“What, shave my armpits? That could tickle.”

She smiled, “Well, you put the cream on, that’s the ticklish bit, then I’ll shave you.”

I thought about it and looked into those beautiful, smiling eyes and said, “Yes. I’d like that.”

I squirted some into my left hand and applied it to my right armpit, turning myself and raising my arm. Becky was very gentle, and I loved the intimacy of her shaving me. She got a facecloth and rinsed me off. We repeated it for my left armpit, then I did Becky’s. She also only had minor stubble, but it was such a wonderful thing to share.

Becky said, “Now, legs. Hop up on the ledge.”

I hopped up and sat on the wide back edge of the bath and Becky knelt in front of me. I was treated to my legs being shaved. I’m not overly hairy, so it was only a matter of minutes later that she said, “All done. Unless you want anything else…”

I looked at her, a little puzzled. As I have told you, dear reader, I was really quite naive. “Like?”

She raised an eyebrow, “Bikini line? You know, ‘pits ‘n’ bits,'” and she grinned at me.

Realisation struck me, “Oh! Well, I do that if I’m going to be wearing a bikini, but then I let it go through the winter. You think I should?”

She smiled, “No, sweetie, it’s up to you. I was just offering.”

I swallowed. I suddenly loved the idea of her shaving me in such an intimate place.

“Um… yes. I’d like that.”

She pushed my legs gently apart and, before doing anything spread my lips and placed a kiss on my clit.

“Love you Chloe,” she looked up at me, “love you too, sweetie.”

Her silliness relaxed me. I hadn’t realised I was nervous, but I had been.

“I love you. Always and in all ways.”

She squirted some cream out and spread it down the sides of my triangle, and down onto my outer lips. I shuddered with pleasure, the tingles from my previous orgasm still slightly evident. She then started carefully shaving in from the sides. My hair is fairly sparse, so it only took a few strokes of the blade to actually clear me. Becky also cleared the hair above my clit hood, which I had never done. She then used her fingers to push my lips to one side and shave inwards. She went all the way down and I watched, fascinated. When I usually did my bikini line I didn’t tend to bother with my lips because I never wore anything that was that brief.

Once she’d finished she used the face cloth to clear everything away. She then used her fingers to trace down the sides, checking for any remaining stubborn hairs, which sent another thrill through me. She obviously found a couple because she gently used the razor to clean up a few spots.

When she was done with that she looked up and said, “How does it feel sweetie?”

I used my fingers to feel down my bare skin and now exposed lips and clit. I loved the sensuous smoothness of it, and how I was now so much more exposed.

“I love it Becky.”

She smiled, “So, does Madam require anything else?”

I looked down at my now small triangle of hair and said, “It almost looks like a little heart. It’s lovely.”

“What a wonderful idea, would you like me to make it into a heart?”

I didn’t have to think, “Yes! I’d love that.”

She quickly got to work with the cream and razor, rounding the corners and putting a little ‘v’ shape in the top, finally rinsing me once again. I looked and saw a perfect red heart and felt amazingly happy and loved.

“Becky, I love it. It is another symbol of our love, always there. I want to do the same for you. I want us to have matching hearts.”

“Then make way for me sweetie and I will enjoy your touch and loving ministrations.”

I slid into the water and Becky sat up on the side. I shaved her legs, being oh so careful not to nick anywhere, and then started on her pussy. I was really nervous, but so wanted to do this. I put the cream around her and started the shaving process. Her hair was quite a bit thicker than mine, so it took longer, but this just meant I could spend more time examining her beautiful folds, her gorgeous clit.

Because Video porno I knew I was going for a heart shape, I did it slightly differently, starting with the sides and then shaping the top. Finally I did both of her lips as she had mine, working from the outside in. Once I was finished I used the facecloth to wipe everything away and I then did a little detailing to get the shape just right.

I sat back to look at my handiwork, and was happy. I looked up at Becky, “I love it. Did I do okay?”

I watched as she explored her little heart and bare skin, and was thrilled to see her stroke her finger over her clit.

She stopped and smiled, “I love it too, sweetie. It is doubly special because you did it for me.”

I croaked, “Don’t stop.”

She raised an eyebrow and started stroking again, side to side. I sat, transfixed by this vision of my love, so close, doing something so private and intimate. I watched her clit grow under her touch. Her lips were puffy, making a cute heart shape of their own around her finger. I traced my fingers down her now bare outer lips, loving the smooth look and feel. I was absorbing everything, once again remembering, with my eyes and fingers, ever detail, every gorgeous fold.

I slid my fingers a little further down to that little bridge between her two entrances and stroked there, something that had worked for me in the past, and was rewarded with a little sigh, “Mmm. Yes. Perfect.”

Leaving one finger stroking there, I placed two fingers from my other hand at her entrance and, slowly pushed in to her soft wetness. My fingers slid in easily and I curled them up to find her little spot.

I stroked in and out, applying pressure and was delighted to see Becky speed up and tense.

“Oh god, Anna… yes! Fuck, yes!”

She started jerking and I felt her pussy walls clamping and unclamping on me as her orgasm rushed through her. Her thighs closing around me.

Her eyes closed, her breathing became rapid, I just looked at my perfect love. Kneeling in front of her like this felt a little like I was some acolyte to a goddess, and in many ways I was. Becky was my goddess.

As she came around and opened her eyes, I said, “You are my goddess and I am your one true believer.”

She placed her hands on either side of my head, under my hair, slid down into the bath and kissed me.

We held onto each other for ages, but finally Becky said, “I think we’re clean enough my High Priestess, and the water is getting a bit cool. Let’s get out.”

We both stood up and helped each other step out. Becky got a towel and started drying me. When she’d finished I dried her, savouring her beauty.

We put our bath robes back on, once again dressing each other and Becky picked up the dildo from the sink, “Better clean this, you never know…” and she started to go through the cleansing routine.

When she’d finished she said, “What do you want to do with the rest of the day sweetie? We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

The memories of the drama of the morning with Jackie, the conversation with Professor Henry, all came flooding back and I was suddenly nervous again.

“Oh god, Becky. I’d forgotten. Really. In the midst of everything I had completely forgotten.”

She held me, her hands running through my hair and said, “I know sweetie. So had I, sort of. It will be okay. I promise. Once tomorrow is over, we will both feel differently about it, but until then we will both be a little on edge. Let’s not bother with going to your place. You can carry on using my toothbrush and you have my bath robe. Let’s stay here and have a light supper and maybe some wine to calm us, and then have an early night. How does that sound?”

I warmed. “It sounds perfect. Completely perfect.”

We headed downstairs where I got some wine out and poured two glasses while Becky prepared a light salad. We sat out in the garden in the still warm early evening air.

I could hardly think straight. I was fretting about what the next day would bring. Once we’d finished eating, Becky, realising I was so tense, took my hands in hers and looked directly at me with those beautiful blue eyes. The butterflies in my stomach were replaced by the calming love I felt whenever I looked at her.

“It’s going to be okay sweetie. Really. We have our meeting with John first thing. Do you have any lectures tomorrow?”

I wracked my brains. I should know but I couldn’t think straight. “I… think so? Maybe one at ten and another at three. I think.”

I had a sudden realisation, which obviously caused my face to panic because Becky said, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I just realised. We have to go to college via my place. I have all my books and course work there.”

She smiled, “Don’t worry baby. We can do that. You can get the rest of your stuff and we’ll move you out properly. I’ve got some boxes we can take. How much is there?”

I panicked. “Oh, one box should do it, plus my overnight case. But… people like Gemma will be there. They’ll see us.”

“It’s your choice my love, but I think the best option is just to be open with anyone. It’s the day we come out, remember?”

The full reality was hitting home, but I knew she was right. I was just terrified of people’s reactions.

I took a deep breath and stared into those eyes once more and, again, was calmed. “Yes. Yes. Actually, now I think about it, it will just be good to stop worrying and fretting.”

She leaned forward and kissed me softly, lingering for a few seconds. She pulled back and said, “Let’s clear the table, put the dishwasher on and go to bed.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep, Becky. I’m nervous and excited all at once.”

“So am I sweetie. We must just try our best.”

We cleared the table and carried everything through to the kitchen and filled the dishwasher. Becky went to lock the French Windows and then led me up the stairs. We entered our bedroom and Becky opened my robe and let it drop to the floor. With slightly shaky hands I opened hers, revealing her delectable body once more. Seeing the little heart shape on her pubic mound made me smile, and I looked down at mine, remembering our earlier bath. Oddly, this whole ritual calmed me somewhat.

Smiling at what I was obviously looking at, Becky said, “See, even our pussies love each other now.”

I giggled a little, “I think they always have.”

Becky sat down on the bed and patted next to her. I sat down and we started kissing. The time for words gone, replaced by the time for peace and tranquility.

In a reflection of our very first time, our hands stroked down over each other and I delighted in feeling her now bare lips and smooth skin. We automatically opened our legs to each other and fell slowly back onto the bed. As I touched her she touched me, just stroking each other’s clits in time, I felt all my cares and worries evaporate and I was lost in the moment of being with my one, true love.

There was nothing rushed or hurried. We just stroked and kissed and slowly the build up began and, over several minutes started to reach a peak.

I felt my orgasm right on the edge, ready to fill me and just whispered, “I’m going to cum for you, Becky. I love you.”

That seemed to tip me over and I felt that delicious warmth in my lips, all around and inside. I closed my eyes, moaned loudly and as I did I was aware of Becky gripping me tightly with her free hand and she moaned with me.

We were trembling together once more. Linked in love.

We both slowly came back down to earth. I had that wonderful, post orgasmic, rested feeling. I opened my eyes once more to find Becky, her head rested on the palm of her hand, smiling at me. “I love you Anna. Totally love you.”

My tummy did little flops. My love for Becky was all consuming. “And I love you, Becky. All of me. You complete me.”

As if reading each other’s minds we wordlessly slipped up the bed and got ourselves under the duvet. Becky set the bedside alarm for six in the morning and we cuddled together. Hands stroking and exploring in an intimate and sensual way. We were both sated by the day’s emotional and physical exertions.

Surprisingly, we fell asleep and I was woken by the alarm going off. Somehow we had ended up in a spoon position, with me behind Becky, holding on to her. I felt surprisingly rested.

Becky reached a hand out and stopped the alarm while I placed a kiss on her neck.

She turned over and said, “Good morning my perfect lover. Ready for our big day?”

It was probably because I’d had so much sleep, and perhaps a little bit of adapting to the idea, that the thought was now more exciting than terrifying, although I still felt a little anxious.

“I’m about as ready as I will ever be,” I replied, “I just want to get it started.”

She smiled and kissed me, then said, “You are amazing. You didn’t say you wanted to get it over with, just that you want to get it started. One of the myriad of reasons I love you is that you bring so many positive thoughts into my life.”

I smiled lovingly into her eyes and kissed her once again.

When we broke Becky said, “Right. We’ve got a lot to do. Shower, dress, breakfast, get over to your place and then we’ve got to be in John’s office by eight.”

I hadn’t realised it was going to be so early, “What? Can we do that?”

“If I don’t give into my desire to seduce you, probably,” she said with a chuckle.

I pouted, “You mean I don’t get my Becky fix today?”

She kissed my nose, “Oh, you will. Just wait ’til I get you home this evening young lady.”

I giggled and thrilled. That would make the day one of longing and anticipation.

She pushed the covers down and patted my bottom lovingly. “Come on. Let’s go.”

We walked through to the bathroom and I had a pee while Becky brushed her teeth, then we swapped places and finally headed for the shower. We washed each other, including our hair, and finally dried each other.

In the bedroom we picked out sensible clothes for once, it was after all a college day. After picking out bras and knickers for each other we both went for skinny jeans and blouses, mine in cream, hers in a pastel blue. I loved the way Becky’s figure was outlined. We kissed often, but were both aware of our tight schedule. We fixed each other’s hair, touched up our makeup and headed downstairs.

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