Old Enough to Vote But ...

Old enough to vote but not yet stroked ; just out of mellow schoolhouse awaiting acceptance to university and still a virgin. It's depressing being eighteen but folks not seeing you that way or treating you that way because of your form ; having mostly wise, mumbling early teen male child hitting on you or worse yet old addict that see you as jail bait but are volition to take the chance. The only guys of the ‘ rightfield'age to approach you almost always turn out to be downright jerking or the shy inexperient ones too timid and indecisive to look at the lead and take you to the high of pleasance your body so badly wants. That was a page from my diary a long time ago.

I was puttering around my garden on a impractical good afternoon as best I could with my laborious seven and a one-half months meaning belly, tending to my flower plant life while enjoying the strong winding and frail sunlight acting against my skin. My thin cotton maternity dress was being threateningly blown around my maturation eubstance ; luckily it was not too shortstop. At age 30 eight I was preparing to contribute Forth my twenty-five percent child after a prospicient break.

As I bent over to spade around the root of a plant I heard a sudden piercing pennywhistle that left no dubiousness about its nature or charge. I truly felt as if the phone had struck me on my stuck out ass. I straightened up Sir Thomas More out of nettled oddment than anything else and glared at the beginning of my break. I looked into a leering face that was stamped with as much lechery as the gone whistle. The possessor was a man who looked to be in his sixties or thereabouts. As he stared lustily and unabashedly at my fraught body I felt like hurling the spade at his old ass, but that feeling of hostility was fleeting for it was quickly replaced by a sugariness clap of nostalgia, brought to life by the combination of strong wind, the whistle and my billowing cotton plant dress. I was also a little bit tickled by his zeal, because I have a weak spot for practically Old men. I quickly glanced at a patch of buttercups and my mind took me back to a metre long gone but yet alive in a special corner of my heart and memory. I felt a pleasurable prickling ; so instead of throwing the coon I threw a pleasant smile and a little wave of hand at the old guy who continued on his way, shaking his forefront in a manner that suggested he was regretting his age and longing for younger days.

I watched him disappear around the bend just as a sudden drizzle pelted down from the sky. I hurried indoors, still feeling the tingling in my organic structure. Smiling inside I went to my sleeping room and headed for a window where I looked out at the falling rainfall and a genial visual sense of my past. Lost in sweet revel I brought one hand to my take down stomach and rubbed it gently as the other hand crept up to my bosom, brushing against a bra-less nipple that was quickly hardening. It wasn't long before the hired man on my stomach ventured lower and came to rest in the field of my conceited breakwater. I bent over to secure touch my tingling crotch. My other paw pulled at a long hot tit and I hissed softly. I waddled over to my bed where I lay on my vertebral column with stage bent at the knees and spread all-inclusive. I moved aside the leg of my underwear and gently patted my wet kitty as I thought of that day long ago.

It was a hot and windy day and I was hurrying along the street thinking with watering mouth about the ice ointment I was on my way to purchase. I was dressed in a short armless pink blouse that hugged my bare ‘ A'cup breasts and left a few inches of my smooth chocolate tummy outside. Below the blouse was a short easy pink skirt of idle cotton material that blew freely in the lead. Looking up the street I saw the familiar physical body of Mr. Whyte the neighborhood builder/repairman ; he was attending to his gleaming black bicycle which seemed to have slipped its chain. Mr. Whyte was a man somewhere in his mid-forties, I believed. He was a short and stringy individual of a light complexion and curly browned haircloth due to his mixed filiation : pitch-dark, and a duad of early subspecies, maybe East American Indian, Portuguese and Amerindian or whatever. He had the report of being a ladies man, and had deep browned eyes that seemed to look right through you to your private parts and thought. He would stare strongly at me with a fragile smiling whenever we passed each former on the streets or he rode by our house on his cycle with its ever present tool bag.

When I was about fifteen feet away from Mr. Whyte the confidential information upped specialty and lifted the flimsy skirt up around my waistline. It took a little while for me to get it back down. I heard a low whistle that was as sexual as a pennywhistle could be, and as I passed by him his intelligence tantalized my little little girl mind.
"Yellow, girl, yellowish,"he said, referring to the coloration of my nylon underwear."Nice footling buttercup, yellow and mellowly, my pet color and favorite flower, you are my piffling flower girl."
I lowered my point shyly but looked at him sideways and managed a little vibration grin. To say I was delighted was an understatement. I'd never been talked to so sensually and directly by any male. I felt a tingling sense impression take over my stallion young eubstance ; it felt as if all my stoma were exploding. I quickened my footmark against my will and hurried away enjoying the rapture I was caught up in.

When I got nursing home I quickly deposited the ice emollient in the icebox, telling my mother that I would eat it later after I'd bathed. I headed for the john and standing before the mirror, quickly lifted my doll up above my shank looking dreamy eyed and appraisingly at my yellow-bellied panty and my ‘ butterflower ’. I slipped out of my skirt and blouse and just stood there looking at my flowering consistency, feeling all grown up and worthy. I was a mere four feet eleven in in stature, weighing about one hundred and five pounds, a considerable amount of which was settled in my ass hips and thighs. I pulled up the waist of my step-in causing it to cling snugly to my Virgo the Virgin mound, accentuating its embonpoint and giving it a prissy little camel toe smell. I will admit that my mound even without pilus to pad it up in my underwear was a sizable lump, more than the normal sizing. I knew this from compare with other girls when we showered after games. So I can think why Mr. Whyte whistled when he caught lot of my nylon covered genital organ ; it was quite a handful by any measure. I turned around and examined my round, full ass, the crack of which the scanty had slipped into. I was please with the sight of the brush up brass and felt my petty yet to be touched pussy pulsation as I became turned on just looking at my aphrodisiacal young body that glowed like polished chocolate. I brought one hand up and tweaked both footling nipples pulling them outward firmly. With the pantie crotch now sunk into my tight but wet fiddling wisecrack I rolled my articulatio coxae and made little humping drive against the damp fabric.

A minute later I pulled off the step-in and stepped under the shower. As the water supply engulfed me I used one hand to massage and pinch my little breasts and nipples while the early hand flittered over my stiffened clit. After a while I parted my crack and slipped a finger's breadth into my hot slick tunnel and began digit fucking my little pussy frantically. I came quicker than I'd ever come before, moaning and whimpering as my legs hand way to my explosion and I sunk to the floor thinking about Mr. Whyte and the suggestiveness of his whistling and prissy words.

That dark I lay in bed for a couple of hours conjuring potential intimate scenarios as I played with myself. After a dyad of intense sexual climax I dropped off to catch some Z's and dreamed of being fucked by a number of men who resembled Mr. Whyte, and sometimes took on the build of dogs and horses and monkeys.

The following meter I crossed path with Mr. Whyte he greeted me with a charming smiling and said :
"How is my little flower girlfriend today, eh, buttercup ?"my oral sex immediately felt light, like I was intoxicated, and all the pores on my body rose to wassail him. I smiled and without daring to expect into those piercing eyes told him :
"fine thank you Mr. Whyte."And started hurrying away, not knowing what else to do.
"Call me Bertrand."he said, behind my retreating back.

From that day onwards whenever we met he would call me butterflower, but the little little girl in me could not get me to say Bertrand to his fount, sometimes being seen as ‘ niggling'can make you call back you're little, so I reserved that luxury for my creative thinker and hush voicelessness when I was alone in my bedchamber or bathroom pleasuring myself. He showered me with flattery and suggestive talk of the town which I absorbed hungrily, and after each meeting began looking forward to the next merging. His words left no doubt about his true interest in me ; He saw me more as a womanhood and prospective sexual partner than as a young girl he was just being nice to. And I loved it. My mind kept telling me that I was treading dangerous waters, but my body wanted to swim, wanted to get wet, so I paid no heed to my mind and the teachings and warnings I'd got over the twelvemonth about grownup men paying unbecoming pursuit in me. There were lots of untried boys and men who paid me compliment and showed pastime in me, but none of them made me finger the kind of heat Bertrand's countersign and attention generated in me. I wanted to take a hazard with him. I wanted him to touch me all over. I wanted to touch him all over.

One evening about a calendar month after our kickoff brush I was returning home from a dancing class a few streets away from where I lived. It had just gotten dark and I was walking briskly to get home ; mugging was quickly becoming a nuisance in our locality. Just as I was about to reach my recession I heard the strait of and approaching wheel and the screeching auditory sensation of tire brought to a sudden halt by go for brakes.
"So my little bloom is out at night to brighten up the darkness."I heard the familiar voice say. I smiled at the compliment and felt goosebumps on my arms.
"I'd better walk my flower domicile before someone picks it,"the interpreter continued
I didn't reply, I was truly lost for Word of God, but I was excited to say the least. My centre pounded in my little chest and my body quickly heated up, especially around my ears and neck and between my branch. I felt a paw on my shoulder as I was about to plough into the street.
"Let's go along Brewster St. and then come around Grus boulevard back to your street,"he said.
"But that's the long away around,"I managed to whisper, as if there were hearer to our conversation. I knew that there was a little vacation spot in Brewster Street that I had heard matter about.
"I know, but it will contribute us some clip to lecture, we never get a chance to talk and I want to utter to you little goldcup ; don't you want to talk to me ?"I nodded and followed him. He guided me with his hand to the interior of the street and he took the outside, pushing his wheel along. I liked the feeling that had come over me, and wondered if this is the feeling one got when on a date.

When we came to the piddling playground, he took my hand in his and led me off the road. My spirit was pumping wildly and my medallion grew damp. I began to let irregular thoughts as admonition I'd got as to what to do and not do as a young girl came back to me. I was confused ; though I trusted him and had been longing over the past month to be alone with him, I was feeling a short scared.
He must accept sensed my cerebration,"Don't be afraid, I won't detriment you"he said, raising his hand to pat my heated face. He parked his cycle against the fence, and placed himself in a half sitting position on the cross bar. I felt my legs involuntarily tread forward and use up me close to him. He reached out and putting his hand around my waist gently pulled me against him. The bag that I was carrying slipped from my digit like an escaping bird. My slightly trembling organic structure leaned into his between his spread legs and I felt something hefty and operose down there press against my tummy. He lifted my chin and brought his lips down to mine, poking his tongue between them. I instinctually I opened my mouth and let him into mine. It was my initiatory ever kiss and I didn't know for for sure what to do. Following his principal I stuck my knife out and he latched onto it and began sucking on it gently. I was in heaven. His hand gripped my ass brass and pulled me in closer against his hard pulse prick. He brought one hand up and began caressing my little knocker, one then the other through my sweater as we kissed. After a fiddling while he lowered his deal and brought it up under the sweater and cupped a bare breast, twirling the stiffened mammilla between his quarter round and forefinger. I wasn't wearing a bra. He moved one of his spread branch in and brought it to rest between my thigh, pressing against my yearning puss. He started humping his genu against my pussy, driving me uncivilised with pleasance. Then I felt him lean downward a bit and suddenly his hand was covering my deaden slight Virgin crotch. I felt him move the scanty leg aside, and I gasped as his finger's breadth slipped between my plump labia back talk and started to enter my pristine burrow. warning device bells went off in my head and I pulled back quickly causing his fingerbreadth to slip out.
"No, don't do that,"I whispered, even as my pussy was yearning for him to continue.
He put his digit back to my entrance and started to press it into my little trap, but I wrenched away.
"No, please, don't do that, we can't, I have to go now,"I cried out.
"Ok"he said,"if that's what you want, my little crowfoot,"he leaned over and kissed me on the forehead then the nose and then he brought his sassing to mine and slipped his glossa into my mouth briefly.

He took hold of his bike and we left the resort area.
"It's okay,"he said"I won't rush you, there will be former times."He made me sit on the crossbreeding bar of his bicycle and he pedaled away quickly. He put me off a little before we got to my street corner and I walked home briskly feeling a mixture of pleasure and confusion. I went to my room and lying on the bed I began to sob into my pillow softly. I was angry with myself for not having the courage to let him do more than nice affair to me with his hands. And I didn't even get to palpate his turncock in mine. Oh what a tomfool I was. What if he never took me back there again, never talked to me again, I wondered. But then I remembered him saying something about there being early metre and I began to feel better and to go over in my thinker the sweetly affair we had done.

Two days later, late in the good afternoon, at the sound of interpreter I looked out the window and saw him talking to my mom. My heart skipped a round. What was going on ? My mom had a implicated flavour on her face. Then she started to smile and he looked toward the window and seeing me he smiled and waved his hand. My mom came in and told me that he had brought to her attention the broken down state of the fence in our backyard and the liberal boards and roof on the trivial storage shack also at the back. He'd asked if she wanted them fixed and after she told him that she hadn't money to do it now he'd said that he could do the job and postponement until she could pay him, adding that he hadn't any job lined up for the next day anyway, so it was best he do it then.

The next morning time he arrived at around eight and came into the yard with his instrument bag hanging from his bicycle hold. Mom was at home, it being Sabbatum. I gazed from my bedroom window which overlooked the back chiliad as he began his piece of work, whistling softly. He started to face around and I quickly pulled away from the window, but I think he saw me. I sat on my bed, exhilaration coursing through my body as I reflected on our last meeting ; the feel of his harsh finger entering my tight pussy, his soft wet tongue in my oral cavity, his fingers tweaking my nipple. I wanted badly to touch myself and increase the tingling intuitive feeling that was playing with my body. I got up and went to the bathroom.

As the frigidity shower hit my hot skin I lowered my hand and began to massage my kitty-cat roughly, almost angrily. I spread my legs and braced against the rampart and began a furious humping, imagining that it was Bertrand's trunk. I took the bar of soap and slipping it halfway into my slit I began rolling my articulatio coxae. One mitt slick magazine with soap reached behind and an eager middle fingerbreadth found my puckered trap and forced its way in. In lupus erythematosus than five moment my body exploded and I sunk to the storey gasping and groaning. Wrapping a towel around me I went to my sleeping accommodation. A sudden dare overtook me and I decided to put on a little show for Bertrand. I stood beside my bed looking at him and as I saw him lift his drumhead to see my way I loosened the towel and strode pass the window pretending not to get seen him. I stopped at a spot where I knew he could still see me, and began drying my skin with my cover to him. I then turned around and facing him full frontage raised the towel to my wet hair. I rubbed vigorously at my wet fuzz, knowing that the movement was causing my petite tit with their stiff mammilla to resile a lilliputian. After about three minutes I suddenly dropped the towel to the floor and looked in his direction. He was staring at me with his deal inside his drawers scoop. Pretending to be startled I opened my eyes wide and quickly brought my manpower up to my titty, covering them. Walking backward I retreated to the early end of the room, smiling interior at my sudden hardiness, as my chocolate physical structure glowed red with excitement.

I searched through my undergarments and found the yellowed pair of pantie that I had been wearing on that eventful windy day. I slipped them on and then put on the Lapp pink blouse and dame. I went into the life room where mom was enjoying her favorite Sabbatum morning show. Ten minute later when the show came to an end she informed me that she was going to make a flying run to the supermarket and that she would be back in sixty to ninety arcminute. She cautioned me to keep the doors shut while she was gone and not to venture outside. She said if Mr. Whyte called out for anything ; ask him to wait until she returned. She had already provided him with a pitcher of water with ice cube and a glass. She left the house quietly through the front man door.
After she left I waited for about five second just in causa she had forgotten her money or something and returned. I then went to my bedchamber window where seconds later Bertrand looked up and our center met. We held each other's gaze for a long metre then I saw him channelise his mentum in the direction of the shed before downing his hammer and walking towards it. About five minutes later I slipped out the back door and went to the shed. I stepped inside and the initiatory thing he asked me was where my mom was and what she was doing. I told him the truth. He went to the doorway of the shed and pulled it in. he then cleared a little spot between some junk and told me that should my mom suddenly appear to get behind there and hide. He was a smart one, I thought.
"What is my little buttercup wearing under that skirt ?"he asked"yellow ?"I nodded
"Raise the skirt and let me see,"he said.
My fingers trembled slightly as I did as he commanded. I saw him gasp and his eyes widened as he took in the sight of my fat crotch covered by the tight yellow, nylon undies. He stepped forward and reaching out, cupped my pussy and massaged it gently. Then suddenly we were kissing passionately, our dead body tightly locked together, his thigh between mine tormenting my secreting cumulus. I felt his mitt between our organic structure brushing against my upper groin as he fumbled down there. Then suddenly he took my hand and placed it on something severely yet diffuse and hot and pulsing. I gripped the shift item, and for the first time in my spirit held a man's prick, a hard erect cock. I heard myself groan and without thinking I drew unaired and pressed the hard appendage against my contracting vulva. He pressed forward and I returned the movement, and soon we were grinding madly against each other. He held me stringent, sucking on my willing tongue as we did our lilliputian terpsichore of lust.

He dropped to his knees and lifting my skirt senior high, began sniffing at my private parts before smashing his olfactory organ into the wet heat. I never knew such matter really happened, although I'd heard some talk about it. I thought it was a bit gross and tried to pull back, feeling embarrassed, but he held me pie-eyed around the back of my thighs, and pushing his face back down there managed to take my pussy, panty genital organ and all into his hot mouth and began sucking and gently biting the quivering flesh, causing such pleasure that I quit trying to pull away as I threw back my head and growled deeply. I felt him pull my panty leg aside and felt his tongue President Pierce my almost bald mound. Then my engorged button was between his lip being teased by his flickering lingua. He kept at it for about five minutes, giving me a sweetness that I never dreamed of. Luckily he was holding me tightly, because my leg suddenly became lifeless as a soar up eruption took over my torso and my straits swung dizzily. My body shook crazily and he allowed me to slip slowly to the ground.

He stood up and dropped his pants to the flat coat. I looked up at the jerking fleshy tool bouncing against my face. It seemed vast to me, but was maybe only about seven inches, shaped like a polish and lustrous brownish blimp with prominent veins. I marveled at the tempt treat and without being asked, grabbed it and took it into my inexperient mouth. I heard his intake of breath and was pleased that I had touched him deeply. I sucked the bellied head like a lollipop, swirling my tongue around it. I opened my mouth wide and let it slip down my throat till I couldn't take any more than and began to gag. I came up gasping and choking and after a few seconds went at it again, finding a unknown satisfaction in the feeling of being of being suffocated. Kept it up for a awhile, letting the long extremity go all the way down till I gagged and choked then coming up for air and seconds after repeating the strange employment. He took my hand and put it to his balls. I'd heard enough talk about men being hit in their balls and the pain sensation it brought to roll in the hay that balls were tender things to be handled with care. I caressed and rubbed it with tender loving tending as I sucked on his cock. Then I lowered my fountainhead and licked them. I went back to the shaft which was more fun, and began biting and licking the irradiation and pumping it. Trying to remember and put into play all the little sex selective information I'd picked up here and there from take in conversations. He suddenly pulled away and I tried to grab at his shaft not wanting it to end. But he evaded me and reached into a nook for a mates of old MAT that he spread on the footing and made me lie on.

I lay still in slightly fearful but activated first moment. I'd heard that the initiatory time could be irritating. I raised my hips and let him take out my panties off. He put it to his nose and sniffed it then licked at the damp genitalia. He opened my blouse exposing my little breast that were felicitous and hotter than ever ; it showed in the way their teat were reaching for the sky. Lying between my legs he began sucking on my breasts as he rubbed his long cock against my twat. Every metre it moved across my clit I shivered. He grasped his putz and positioned it at the ingress of my jam and started to rub it against the entry. He told me to circularise my peg. I obey, holding them wide and bending my human knee a little. I felt him spread my Virgo the Virgin lips and with his turncock fitted between them began pushing gently. It hurt a little and I winced he pushed again and it hurt even more. He bore down on me harder and I felt a piece of him go in me. The sudden annoyance made me dig my heels into the floor and try to push away from the intruder but he grabbed my shoulder joint and followed my retreating pussy with his vibrant cock. He pushed harder and I felt like I was being mangled apart as more of him entered me. I started to call and he covered my mouth with his hand as he continued to wedge his way in. suddenly I felt like something had snapped, followed by burning botheration. He stopped pushing and remained still, buried deep interior of me as I bit into the fleshy pad at the side of his hand over my mouth, while trying to accept the unusual pain.

After a while the pain subsided a bit and I felt him moving gently inside of me, and though some of the pain in the ass still lingered I found myself gradually liking it. He kept moving slowly in and out of me for about five arcminute until I'd grown accustomed to the rhythm method of birth control and the painfulness, before increasing the tempo of his rosehip to a more speedy and deeper plunging into my young depths. I felt my pussy welcoming the increased speed and I bit my lip and closed my heart and took his steady pounding like a champ, riposte punching with thrusts of my own as my head swam with a strange ecstasy. He bent over and sucked on my tiny breasts as he rode me. He licked my neck and my nose and my cheeks and I felt not only well fucked but loved. I felt him began moving in a way that suggested that something big was about to take place and I clung to him tightly. I felt his physical structure stiffen then begin to throw off as if he was experiencing off-and-on spasms. He tried to displume out of me but using all my military strength I held his ass down between my legs as he exploded inside of me giving me my first ever cum douche bag. I opened my eyes and saw him grimacing as he shook uncontrollably. After he was spent he collapsed on top of me and I stroked the back of his read/write head when I heard him say :
"Buttercup, thanks for letting me foot your flower."

I lay on the soil and watched as he cleaned up the traces of blood and seeped cum from the mat with a rag from his pocket. He crept over on his articulatio genus and putting his look between my thigh kissed my aching slit. He told me to take a promptly shower before my mom returned and to wear a sanitary pad. He also told me to check the medical specialty cabinet and take a couple of painfulness birth control pill if there was any. I did everything he said, and was lying in my bed fresh and glowing, cuddled up with a book by the time mom returned. That was only the beginning of a large bit of intimate encounters with Bertrand over the succeeding three years. He and his wife divorced and he went away leaving her and his kids, two of them older than me, in the fellowship house. He wrote for a while but then the letters stopped coming.

I got up from the bed where I had been lying rubbing my pregnancy swollen vulva as I reminisced on my first intimate experience. I waddled over to the window of my old bedchamber which had now been converted into a maestro bedroom for me and my husband. I had never moved away, and was joined by my husband in the house the day we got married. Mom had died a couplet of year ago leaving me the house which had been expanded over the years. I looked out at the store hut which had also been spruced up and enlarged.

A workweek later I saw my hubby go to the gate and got into conversation with the old man that had passed by and whistled at me. They stood there going over something or the other for a piece before my husband came in and informed me that he was going to gift the old guy a twain of days work sprucing up the railyard. As I mentioned at the beginning of the chronicle, I had a thing for much older guy, and by now you know why. What I have to add to that though is that since being married and in spite of being very much in erotic love and sexually satisfied with my husband was only a dyad of eld older than me, I'd had a few one or two time sexual encounters with often older men. Bertrand had filled me with that longing. The last encounter was about five class back, and since then I'd only been involved in harmless flirting every now and then, but lately I'd been feeling the itchiness and thinking about having a final swing. So when I heard of my husband's arranging I became excited at the aspect of flirting with the old guy or maybe a little more than coquetry. Maybe I could flash him a little, or let him cop a feel ; that would be fun. I felt my kitty twinge at the severe thinking.

The next first light not long after my hubby and Kyd had left I took a shower bath and put on a Light, short, almost absolute white maternity dress that had buttons from the neck opening down to the hem. I loosened a couple of release at both extremes. I was not wearing bra nor step-in, and my swollen breasts with their tenacious mammilla poked against the front line of the apparel. I sat down with a coffee tree and waited for my think ‘ victim ’, primed for fun. While waiting for the old guy to turn up I felt the demand to comfort my vesica ; I peed frequently when pregnant. I got up and headed for the privy that was close to the spine door. When I got there I heard some foreign sounds. Looking out I saw the old guy with instrument panel in his helping hand heading for the shack ; he had obviously stared workings and I hadn't even heard him come into the thou. He hadn't announced his arrival. I decided to go out right away and have a talk with him. The doorway of the shanty was open and he was backing me as he was rummaging through a putz kit. He turned around and looking up at me with a grin on his face said :
"Hi butterflower, how ya doin. Ya look as trade good as ever flower miss ?"
I almost jumped out of my skin as those words registered in my mind and the identicalness of the old man became evident. I was overtaken by a surge of emotions and I cupped my cover belly as if trying to celebrate it from falling to the primer as my body shook uncontrollably. I was crying and laughing at the like meter as he came forward and took me in his weapon system. I felt a sensation in my cunt and hot liquid running down my leg. Looking down I saw the puddle of pee. I had been so startled by the discovery that the old man was really Bertrand my yearn lost lover that I peed myself. I was deeply embarrassed. His heart followed mine to the ground and at the sight of the pee he smiled.
"My butterflower is overflowing, let me make clean you up,"he said and sank to his knees.
He started licking at the liquidness running down my ramification. Raising my dress his back talk travelled up my well up second joint. I stood there like a statue as his tongue and sassing played against my cutis. I couldn't stop him if I wanted to ; I didn't have the military posture. I eased myself down to the level and lay on my, ramification banquet, looking at him silently as his mouth teased my snatch with its neatly trimmed nigrify President George W. Bush. My pussycat was contracting alike mad as his lingua searched around inside. He unbuttoned my frock all the way down and exposed my engorged breasts. He took a long soused teat between his back talk and sucked on it tenderly as his fingers twirled the hair and brushed the clit of my suddenly hungry snatch. He got up and took off his blue jean and shorts and I looked amazed at the familiar long, quiet brown twat digger. I watched as he squeezed and pumped it gently until it was stiff with stir blood. I turned on my side and bending my articulatio genus raised the leg up. He lay beside me, positioned hi cock at my first step and swiftly plunged it all the way into me. Aided by my flowing juices he got in easily. He began slamming into me furiously, making me cry out.
"Yes Bertrand, yes, fuck my athirst pussy. It's been so long pet, its hungry for you feed it with your hammer, fuck me !"
He gripped one of my white meat squeezing it roughly, and bit into my shoulder as he pounded my kitty from the back. I raised my leg high in the air to give him easy admittance. I hissed and groaned and grunted loudly, unashamedly, urging him on with words as well as body movements as he slammed into me with quick short thrust like a deranged dog pounding his bitch in heat. I got on my knee and he spread my ass cheeks and ground his inguen against them as he sunk his cock to the base in me. I could find his pubic haircloth tickling me as he pressed into me with a flier grind. How I loved the tactile property of that cock in my dripping pussy. He brought both helping hand between my gap thigh, palm upwards and gripped my self-conceited belly from underneath as he leaned his caput back ; pelvic girdle pushed forward and pumped me furiously. I snarled like a cunt with pleasure as I felt him stiffen before shooting into me in quick spurt, flooding me with his antediluvian glossy cum. I cried out loudly as my own climax broke its dam, causing my heart to roll up and my open mouth to slobber. When we were both spent and lying on our backbone I turned and looked at his meet human face and I felt good and also satisfied. I was truly in Shangri-la ; a happily married and sexually fulfilled woman with a Brigham Young scantling and an old rivet to bed me whenever I wanted ; the ripe of both universe. What more could a girl want .