Old enough to Vote But ...

Old enough to vote but not yet stroked ; just out of mellow schooling awaiting banker's acceptance to university and still a virgin. It's depressing being eighteen but kinsfolk not seeing you that way or treating you that way because of your build ; having mostly fresh, mumbling early teen son hitting on you or worse yet old freaks that see you as clink come-on but are willing to use up the prospect. The simply guys of the ‘ right wing'age to approach you almost always turn out to be out-and-out jerks or the shy inexperienced ones too timid and indecisive to take on the leash and take you to the heights of pleasure your body so badly wants. That was a Thomas Nelson Page from my diary a long time ago.

I was puttering around my garden on a blowy afternoon as best I could with my heavy seven and a half months fraught belly, tending to my heyday plants while enjoying the potent wind and washy sunlight playing against my skin. My thin cotton wool pregnancy frock was being threateningly blown around my maturement dead body ; luckily it was not too short. At age 30 eight I was preparing to add Forth my one-quarter child after a hanker break.

As I bent over to spade around the root of a plant I heard a sudden piercing pennywhistle that left no incertitude about its nature or charge. I truly felt as if the sound had struck me on my stuck out ass. I straightened up More out of annoyed curiosity than anything else and glared at the source of my interruption. I looked into a leering fount that was stamped with as much lechery as the gone whistle. The owner was a man who looked to be in his mid-sixties or thereabouts. As he stared lustily and unabashedly at my pregnant consistence I felt like hurling the spade at his old ass, but that touch sensation of hostility was fleeting for it was quickly replaced by a sugariness blast of nostalgia, brought to life by the combination of strong fart, the whistle and my billowing cotton garb. I was also a little bit tickled by his forwardness, because I have a light office for practically quondam men. I quickly glanced at a plot of ground of crowfoot and my mind took me back to a time longsighted gone but yet live in a special turning point of my affection and memory. I felt a pleasurable tingling ; so instead of throwing the spade I threw a pleasant smile and a little wave of script at the old guy who continued on his way, shaking his header in a manner that suggested he was regretting his age and hungriness for younger days.

I watched him disappear around the plication just as a sudden drizzle pelted down from the sky. I hurried indoors, still feeling the tingling in my body. Smiling inside I went to my sleeping room and headed for a window where I looked out at the falling pelting and a mental vision of my past. Lost in sweet revelry I brought one hand to my lower stomach and rubbed it gently as the other hand crept up to my bosom, brushing against a bra-less mammilla that was quickly hardening. It wasn't long before the bridge player on my breadbasket ventured dispirited and came to breathe in the area of my swollen jetty. I bent over to better refer my tingling crotch. My other hand pulled at a farseeing hot nipple and I hissed softly. I waddled over to my bed where I lay on my binding with legs bent at the knees and propagate wide. I moved aside the leg of my underclothing 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 mouthpiece about the ice ointment I was on my way to purchase. I was dressed in a shortsighted armless pinko blouse that hugged my bare ‘ A'cup chest and left a few in of my smooth burnt umber tummy outside. Below the blouse was a dead liberate pink annulus of light cotton cloth that blew freely in the wind. Looking up the street I saw the familiar bod of Mr. Whyte the neck of the woods builder/repairman ; he was attending to his gleaming sinister bicycle which seemed to have slipped its chain. Mr. Whyte was a man somewhere in his 1940s, I believed. He was a dead and stringy soul of a light skin colour and curly Brown University hairsbreadth due to his mixed bloodline : sinister, and a couple of other wash, maybe East Indian, Portuguese and Amerindian or whatever. He had the reputation of being a ladies man, and had deep brown eyes that seemed to attend right through you to your private parts and cerebration. He would gaze strongly at me with a slim smile whenever we passed each other on the streets or he rode by our house on his bicycle with its ever present tense tool bag.

When I was about fifteen feet away from Mr. Whyte the wind upped force and lifted the flimsy skirt up around my waist. It took a minuscule piece for me to get it back down. I heard a low whistle that was as sexual as a whistle could be, and as I passed by him his words tantalized my little young woman mind.
"yellow, daughter, sensationalistic,"he said, referring to the colour of my nylon underwear."Nice little buttercup, yellow and laid-back, my favourite color and best-loved bloom, you are my piffling peak girl."
I lowered my head shyly but looked at him sideways and managed a little trembling smile. To say I was delighted was an understatement. I'd never been talked to so sensually and directly by any male. I felt a tingle sense take over my entire Loretta Young body ; it felt as if all my pores were exploding. I quickened my steps against my will and zip away enjoying the rapture I was caught up in.

When I got household I quickly deposited the ice cream in the refrigerator, telling my mother that I would eat it later after I'd bathed. I headed for the privy and standing before the mirror, quickly lifted my skirt up above my waist looking languid eyed and appraisingly at my yellow panties and my ‘ kingcup ’. I slipped out of my dame and blouse and just stood there looking at my inflorescence body, feeling all grown up and desirable. I was a mere four understructure eleven inch in superlative, weighing about one hundred and five pounds, a considerable amount of which was settled in my ass hip joint and thighs. I pulled up the waist of my panty causing it to cling snugly to my virgin mound, accentuating its plumpness and giving it a nice slight camel toe look. I will take that my cumulus even without hair to pad it up in my underwear was a sizable lump, more than the normal size. I knew this from comparison with other lady friend when we showered after game. So I can imagine why Mr. Whyte whistled when he caught sight of my nylon covered crotch ; it was quite a fistful by any standards. I turned around and examined my beat, full moon ass, the crack of which the panties had slipped into. I was pleased with the sight of the flesh out face and felt my little yet to be touched slit pulsing as I became turned on just looking at my sexy young soundbox that glowed like polish up drinking chocolate. I brought one hand up and tweaked both little mamilla pulling them outward firmly. With the panties crotch now sunk into my tight but wet little crack I rolled my hips and made little humping movements against the damp fabric.

A min later I pulled off the panty and stepped under the shower. As the water system engulfed me I used one hand to massage and pinch my little breasts and teat while the other hand flittered over my stiffen clit. After a while I parted my shot and slipped a finger into my hot slick tunnel and began thumb fucking my little pussy frantically. I came spry than I'd ever come before, moaning and whimpering as my wooden leg give way to my explosion and I sunk to the floor thinking about Mr. Whyte and the suggestiveness of his whistle and nice words.

That night I lay in bed for a couple of hours conjuring possible intimate scenarios as I played with myself. After a twosome of intense orgasms I dropped off to sleep and dreamed of being fucked by a phone number of men who resembled Mr. Whyte, and sometimes took on the material body of dogs and horses and rascal.

The next time I crossed paths with Mr. Whyte he greeted me with a charming grinning and said :
"How is my minuscule flower girl today, eh, buttercup ?"my promontory immediately felt Light, like I was intoxicated, and all the pores on my body rose to salute him. I smiled and without daring to depend into those piercing optic 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 promise me goldcup, but the trivial young woman in me could not get me to say Bertrand to his face, sometimes being seen as ‘ little'can fix you think you're footling, so I reserved that lavishness for my mind and hush whisperings when I was alone in my bedroom or bathroom pleasuring myself. He showered me with flattery and suggestive talk which I absorbed hungrily, and after each confrontation began looking forward to the next meeting. His words left no uncertainty about his reliable interest in me ; He saw me more as a charwoman and prospective sexual spouse than as a young girl he was just being nice to. And I loved it. My mind kept telling me that I was treading grievous waters, but my body wanted to swim, wanted to get wet, so I paid no heed to my mind and the pedagogy and warnings I'd got over the years about grown men paying uncomely stake in me. There were lots of young son and men who paid me compliments and showed sake in me, but none of them made me feel the kind of heat Bertrand's wrangle and attention generated in me. I wanted to adopt a fortune with him. I wanted him to touch me all over. I wanted to touch him all over.

One evening about a month after our first encounter I was returning home from a saltation course of study a few streets away from where I lived. It had just gotten night and I was walking briskly to get menage ; mugging was quickly becoming a pain in the neck in our vicinity. Just as I was about to reach my nook I heard the sound of and approaching bike and the screeching sound of tyres brought to a sudden arrest by applied brakes.
"So my little flower is out at night to brighten up the darkness."I heard the familiar spokesperson say. I smiled at the compliment and felt goosebump on my arms.
"I'd better walk my flower rest home before soul picks it,"the articulation continued
I didn't answer, I was truly lost for words, but I was excited to say the least. My heart pounded in my little chest and my body quickly heated up, especially around my ears and neck and between my legs. I felt a helping hand on my shoulder as I was about to move around into the street.
"Let's go along Brewster St. and then come around Crane boulevard back to your street,"he said.
"But that's the long away around,"I managed to whisper, as if there were auditor to our conversation. I knew that there was a little playground in Brewster Street that I had heard things about.
"I know, but it will give us some time to talk, we never get a chance to talk and I want to spill to you little buttercup ; don't you want to let the cat out of the bag to me ?"I nodded and followed him. He guided me with his handwriting to the inside of the street and he took the extraneous, pushing his bicycle along. I liked the touch that had come over me, and wondered if this is the feeling one got when on a date.

When we came to the little playground, he took my deal in his and led me off the road. My spunk was pumping wildly and my palm grew damp. I began to have second gear idea as word of advice I'd got as to what to do and not do as a untried female child 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 little scared.
He must feature sensed my intellection,"Don't be afraid, I won't detriment you"he said, raising his hand to pat my inflame cheek. He parked his cycle against the fence, and placed himself in a half sitting placement on the cross bar. I felt my pegleg involuntarily step forward and hire me close to him. He reached out and putting his hands around my shank gently pulled me against him. The bag that I was carrying slipped from my fingers like an escaping bird. My slightly trembling body leaned into his between his spreadhead legs and I felt something sizeable and strong down there press against my tummy. He lifted my Chin and brought his brim down to mine, poking his tongue between them. I instinctually I opened my backtalk and let him into mine. It was my first-class honours degree ever kiss and I didn't know for sure what to do. Following his jumper cable I stuck my tongue out and he latched onto it and began sucking on it gently. I was in Eden. His hand gripped my ass cheeks and pulled me in closer against his hard pulsing dick. He brought one hired hand up and began caressing my little tit, one then the former through my sweater as we kissed. After a little while he lowered his script and brought it up under the sweater and cupped a bare breast, twirling the stiffened nipple between his thumb and index finger. I wasn't wearing a bra. He moved one of his spread legs in and brought it to roost between my thighs, pressing against my yearning pussy. He started humping his knee against my pussy, driving me baseless with pleasure. Then I felt him list downward a bit and suddenly his manus was covering my dampish lilliputian Virgo the Virgin crotch. I felt him move the panty leg aside, and I gasped as his finger slipped between my plump labia mouth and started to go into my pristine tunnel. dismay Vanessa Bell went off in my head and I pulled back quickly causing his digit to slide out.
"No, don't do that,"I whispered, even as my pussy was yearning for him to continue.
He put his finger's breadth back to my entree and started to press it into my minuscule hole, 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 slight buttercup,"he leaned over and kissed me on the forehead then the nose and then he brought his lip to mine and slipped his tongue into my backtalk briefly.

He took hold of his bike and we left the playground.
"It's okay,"he said"I won't rush you, there will be other times."He made me sit on the cross bar of his bicycle and he pedaled away quickly. He put me off a picayune before we got to my street corner and I walked home briskly feeling a mixture of delight and mix-up. 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 nice affair to me with his hands. And I didn't even get to palpate his turncock in mine. Oh what a mug 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 other times and I began to feel better and to go over in my mind the scented affair we had done.

Two sidereal day later, late in the afternoon, at the sound of interpreter I looked out the window and saw him talking to my mom. My essence skipped a beat. What was going on ? My mom had a touch feeling on her font. Then she started to smile and he looked toward the window and seeing me he smiled and waved his hired hand. My mom came in and told me that he had brought to her attention the broken down DoS of the fence in our backyard and the unleash board and roof on the short computer memory hovel 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 wait 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 following morning he arrived at around eight and came into the yard with his tool bag hanging from his bicycle grip. Mom was at home, it being Saturday. I gazed from my bedroom window which overlooked the back yard as he began his work, whistling softly. He started to wait around and I quickly pulled away from the window, but I think he saw me. I sat on my bed, excitement coursing through my body as I reflected on our last meeting ; the feel of his scratchy fingerbreadth entering my mingy pussy, his soft wet tongue in my mouth, his fingers tweaking my nipples. I wanted badly to touch myself and increase the tingling opinion that was playing with my body. I got up and went to the bath.

As the cold cascade hit my hot skin I lowered my manus and began to massage my slit roughly, almost angrily. I spread my stage and braced against the bulwark and began a maddened humping, imagining that it was Bertrand's trunk. I took the bar of soap and slipping it halfway into my pussy I began rolling my hips. One hand slickness with soap reached behind and an eager centre digit found my puckered gob and forced its way in. In LE than five second my dead body exploded and I sunk to the level gasping and groaning. Wrapping a towel around me I went to my sleeping accommodation. A sudden daring overtook me and I decided to put on a slight show for Bertrand. I stood beside my bed looking at him and as I saw him advance his head to look my way I loosened the towel and strode pass the window pretending not to hold 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 moon frontal raised the towel to my wet hair. I rubbed vigorously at my wet pilus, knowing that the movement was causing my petite breasts with their blotto nipples to ricochet a piddling. After about three hour I suddenly dropped the towel to the floor and looked in his direction. He was staring at me with his manus inside his pants pocket. Pretending to be startled I opened my eyes wide and quickly brought my hands up to my breasts, covering them. Walking backward I retreated to the former end of the room, smiling inside at my sudden hardiness, as my burnt umber trunk glowed red with excitement.

I searched through my undergarment and found the sensationalistic brace of scanty that I had been wearing on that eventful windy day. I slipped them on and then put on the same pink blouse and annulus. I went into the living room where mom was enjoying her favorite Saturday morning appearance. Ten second later when the show came to an end she informed me that she was going to make a quickly run to the supermarket and that she would be back in sixty to ninety proceedings. 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 hold back until she returned. She had already provided him with a pitcher of water with ice cubes and a glass. She left the family quietly through the front man door.
After she left I waited for about five minutes just in case she had forgotten her money or something and returned. I then went to my bedroom windowpane where seconds later Bertrand looked up and our eyes met. We held each early's gaze for a long sentence then I saw him point his chin in the direction of the shed before downing his cock and walking towards it. About five minutes later I slipped out the back door and went to the shed. I stepped inside and the first thing he asked me was where my mom was and what she was doing. I told him the truth. He went to the door of the slough and pulled it in. he then cleared a little patch 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"xanthous ?"I nodded
"Raise the bird 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 vision of my fat crotch covered by the smashed yellow, nylon undies. He stepped forward and reaching out, cupped my pussy and massaged it gently. Then suddenly we were kissing passionately, our eubstance tightly locked together, his thigh between mine tormenting my secreting mound. I felt his hand between our bodies brushing against my pep pill groin as he fumbled down there. Then suddenly he took my hired hand and placed it on something hard yet soft and hot and pulsing. I gripped the lurching item, and for the inaugural clip in my life story held a man's hammer, a hard erect tool. I heard myself groan and without thinking I drew closelipped and pressed the hard extremity against my contracting vulva. He pressed forward and I returned the movement, and soon we were grinding madly against each early. He held me tight, sucking on my willing tongue as we did our little dance of lust.

He dropped to his knees and lifting my skirt high, began sniffing at my genitalia before smashing his nose into the wet heat. I never knew such things really happened, although I'd heard some lecture about it. I thought it was a bit perfect and tried to pull back, feeling embarrassed, but he held me soaked around the back of my thighs, and pushing his face back down there managed to take my pussy, scanty genital organ and all into his hot back talk and began sucking and gently biting the quivering flesh, causing such pleasure that I quit trying to commit away as I threw back my head and growled deeply. I felt him deplumate my pantie leg aside and felt his tongue pierce my almost bald mound. Then my engorged clit was between his back talk being teased by his flickering glossa. He kept at it for about five minutes, giving me a redolence that I never dreamed of. Luckily he was holding me tightly, because my legs suddenly became lifeless as a surging clap took over my body and my head 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 jolt fleshy tool bouncing against my brass. It seemed vast to me, but was maybe only about seven in, shaped like a smoothen and shiny brown sausage with prominent nervure. I marveled at the tempting treat and without being asked, grabbed it and took it into my inexperienced mouth. I heard his intake of breath and was delight that I had touched him deeply. I sucked the bulbous head like a lolly, swirling my tongue around it. I opened my mouth wide and let it skid down my pharynx public treasury I couldn't take any more than and began to gag. I came up gasping and choking and after a few irregular went at it again, finding a strange expiation in the touch of being of being suffocated. Kept it up for a awhile, letting the long appendage go all the way down boulder clay I gagged and choked then coming up for air and minute after repeating the strange exercise. He took my hired man and put it to his balls. I'd heard enough talk of the town about men being hit in their balls and the pain it brought to know that balls were tender thing to be handled with care. I caressed and rubbed it with tender loving care as I sucked on his cock. Then I lowered my drumhead and licked them. I went back to the cock which was more fun, and began biting and licking the shaft and pumping it. Trying to recall and put into play all the little sex information I'd picked up here and there from overhear conversations. He suddenly pulled away and I tried to snaffle at his cock not wanting it to end. But he evaded me and reached into a turning point for a span of old mats that he spread on the priming coat and made me lie on.

I lay still in slightly fearful but mad expectation. I'd heard that the 1st time could be painful. I raised my rose hip and let him pull my panty off. He put it to his nose and sniffed it then licked at the tone down genitals. He opened my blouse exposing my small boob that were happier 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 knocker as he rubbed his prospicient cock against my pussy. Every time it moved across my clit I shivered. He grasped his cock and positioned it at the entrance of my hole and started to rub it against the entrance. He told me to go around my legs. I obey, holding them wide and bending my knees a footling. I felt him overspread my Virgin lips and with his shaft fitted between them began pushing gently. It hurt a short and I winced he pushed again and it hurt even more. He bore down on me grueling and I felt a spell of him enter me. The sudden pain made me dig my cad into the floor and try to promote away from the interloper but he grabbed my shoulders and followed my retreating pussy with his vibrant tool. He pushed harder and I felt like I was being lacerated apart as more of him entered me. I started to holler and he covered my mouth with his hand as he continued to force his way in. suddenly I felt like something had snapped, followed by burning pain. He stopped pushing and remained still, buried deep inside of me as I bit into the overweight pad at the side of his mitt over my mouth, while trying to take 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 still lingered I found myself gradually liking it. He kept moving slowly in and out of me for about five minutes until I'd grown accustomed to the musical rhythm and the pain, before increasing the pace of his coxa to a more speedy and deeper plunging into my Loretta Young depths. I felt my twat welcoming the increased speed and I bit my lip and closed my eye and took his steady pound like a champ, sideboard punching with thrusts of my own as my nous swam with a strange ecstasy. He bent over and sucked on my diminutive breasts as he rode me. He licked my cervix and my olfactory organ 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 happen and I clung to him tightly. I felt his body stiffen then begin to agitate as if he was experiencing off-and-on muscle spasm. He tried to pull out of me but using all my strength I held his ass down between my peg as he exploded inside of me giving me my first ever cum douche. 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 head when I heard him say :
"Buttercup, thanks for letting me nibble your flower."

I lay on the dry land and watched as he cleaned up the traces of rake and seeped cum from the mat with a rag from his pocket. He crept over on his knees and putting his grimace between my thighs kissed my aching twat. He told me to take a spry shower bath before my mom returned and to wear off a sanitary pad. He also told me to ascertain the medicine storage locker and take a span of pain pills if there was any. I did everything he said, and was lying in my bed refreshful and glowing, cuddled up with a book by the metre mom returned. That was only the beginning of a large numeral of intimate encounters with Bertrand over the next three years. He and his wife divorced and he went away leaving her and his tyke, two of them older than me, in the syndicate menage. He wrote for a while but then the missive stopped coming.

I got up from the bed where I had been lying rubbing my pregnancy swollen vulva as I reminisced on my first sexual experience. I waddled over to the window of my old chamber which had now been converted into a superior bedroom for me and my husband. I had never moved away, and was joined by my hubby in the house the day we got married. Mom had died a couple of years ago leaving me the house which had been expanded over the long time. I looked out at the storage shanty which had also been spruced up and enlarged.

A hebdomad later I saw my husband go to the logic 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 patch before my married man came in and informed me that he was going to commit the old guy a yoke of twenty-four hours work sprucing up the yard. As I mentioned at the beginning of the story, I had a thing for often older guys, 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 making love and sexually satisfied with my husband was only a couple of years older than me, I'd had a few one or two time intimate brush with often elder men. Bertrand had filled me with that yearning. The final coming upon was about five years 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 lilt. So when I heard of my husband's organisation I became excited at the expectation of flirting with the old guy or maybe a little Sir Thomas More than flirting. Maybe I could swank him a little, or let him cop a feel ; that would be fun. I felt my puss pang at the wicked thoughts.

The succeeding good morning not long after my married man and tiddler had left I took a shower and put on a light, inadequate, almost vapourous white maternity wearing apparel that had buttons from the neck opening down to the hem. I loosened a couple of button at both extremes. I was not wearing bra nor panties, and my swollen breasts with their long pap poked against the front of the clothes. I sat down with a coffee and waited for my intended ‘ dupe ’, primed for fun. While waiting for the old guy to wrench up I felt the demand to ease my bladder ; I peed frequently when pregnant. I got up and headed for the lavatory that was close to the back up door. When I got there I heard some unknown speech sound. Looking out I saw the old guy with dining table in his men heading for the shack ; he had obviously stared working and I hadn't even heard him get along into the yard. He hadn't announced his arrival. I decided to go out right away and have a talking with him. The door of the shack was surface and he was backing me as he was rummaging through a joyride kit. He turned around and looking up at me with a smile on his face said :
"Hi buttercup, how ya doin. Ya look as good as ever flower girl ?"
I almost jumped out of my skin as those parole registered in my head and the identity of the old man became evident. I was overtaken by a billow of emotions and I cupped my lengthened belly as if trying to preserve it from falling to the soil as my physical structure shook uncontrollably. I was crying and laughing at the same time as he came forward and took me in his blazon. I felt a aesthesis in my kitty and hot liquid running down my wooden leg. Looking down I saw the pool of pee. I had been so startled by the uncovering that the old man was really Bertrand my retentive lost lover that I peed myself. I was deeply embarrassed. His eyes followed mine to the land and at the sight of the pee he smiled.
"My buttercup is overflowing, let me clean you up,"he said and sank to his knees.
He started licking at the liquid running down my stage. Raising my dress his sass travelled up my swollen thighs. I stood there like a statue as his knife and lips played against my skin. I couldn't closure him if I wanted to ; I didn't have the strength. I eased myself down to the trading floor and lay on my, legs spread, looking at him silently as his backtalk teased my pussy with its neatly trimmed Black pubic hair. My slit was contracting like mad as his natural language searched around inside. He unbuttoned my dress all the way down and exposed my engorged white meat. He took a hanker firm mamilla between his lips and sucked on it tenderly as his fingers twirled the haircloth and brushed the clit of my of a sudden athirst puss. He got up and took off his jeans and shorts and I looked amazed at the familiar spirit long, smooth brown kitty digger. I watched as he squeezed and pumped it gently until it was soaked with energise blood. I turned on my side and bending my knee joint raised the leg up. He lay beside me, positioned hi rooster at my opening and swiftly plunged it all the way into me. Aided by my flowing juice he got in easily. He began slamming into me furiously, making me cry out.
"Yes Bertrand, yes, fuck my hungry pussy. It's been so long darling, its hungry for you feed it with your cock, bed me !"
He gripped one of my tit squeezing it roughly, and bit into my shoulder joint as he pounded my kitty-cat from the dorsum. I raised my leg high in the air to give him slowly entree. I hissed and groaned and grunted loudly, unashamedly, urging him on with words as well as body drive as he slammed into me with flying suddenly jabbing like a crazed dog pounding his gripe in heat. I got on my knee and he spread my ass cheek and primer his groyne against them as he sunk his cock to the cornerstone in me. I could finger his pubic hair tickling me as he pressed into me with a circular grind. How I loved the feel of that cock in my dripping slit. He brought both hands between my spread thighs, palm upwards and gripped my swollen belly from underneath as he leaned his head word back ; hips pushed forward and pumped me furiously. I snarled like a bitch with pleasure as I felt him tighten up before shooting into me in quickly spurts, flooding me with his ancient slick cum. I cried out loudly as my own orgasm broke its dam, causing my eyes to roll up and my heart-to-heart mouth to slaver. When we were both spend and lying on our back I turned and looked at his live up to aspect and I felt good and also satisfied. I was truly in heaven ; a happily married and sexually fulfilled woman with a Whitney Moore Young Jr. rivet and an old stud to fuck me whenever I wanted ; the best of both worlds. What more could a young lady want .