Old Enough to Vote But ...

Old enough to vote but not yet stroked ; just out of high school awaiting espousal 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 sassy, mumbling early teen boy hitting on you or worsened yet old monster that see you as pokey come-on but are will to hold the luck. The simply guy of the ‘ right'age to approach you almost always turn out to be sheer jerked meat or the shy inexperienced ones too timid and indecisive to take the lead and take aim you to the heights of pleasure your body so badly wants. That was a page from my diary a long time ago.

I was puttering around my garden on a windy good afternoon as best I could with my heavy seven and a half months meaning belly, tending to my peak plants while enjoying the strong wind instrument and weak sun performing against my skin. My melt off cotton maternity dress was being threateningly blown around my aging body ; luckily it was not too short. At age thirty eight I was preparing to bring forth my quaternary child after a long break.

As I bent over to spade around the root of a plant I heard a sudden piercing whistle that left no doubt about its nature or direction. I truly felt as if the sound had struck me on my stuck out ass. I straightened up more out of nettled curiosity than anything else and glared at the root of my pause. I looked into a leering face that was stamped with as much lechery as the gone whistling. The owner was a man who looked to be in his mid-sixties or thereabouts. As he stared lustily and unabashedly at my pregnant dead body I felt like hurling the jigaboo at his old ass, but that feel of hostility was fleeting for it was quickly replaced by a sweet blast of nostalgia, brought to life by the combination of strong wind instrument, the whistle and my billowing cotton wool garb. I was also a niggling bit tickled by his forwardness, because I have a washy patch for much older men. I quickly glanced at a patch of buttercups and my judgement took me back to a sentence retentive gone but yet alive in a special corner of my heart and store. I felt a enjoyable tingling ; so instead of throwing the coon I threw a pleasant smile and a little undulation of script at the old guy who continued on his way, shaking his point in a manner that suggested he was regretting his age and yearning for younger days.

I watched him disappear around the curve 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 bedroom and headed for a window where I looked out at the falling rain and a mental vision of my past times. Lost in odorous revel I brought one bridge player to my down stomach and rubbed it gently as the other hand crept up to my bosom, brushing against a bra-less mamilla that was quickly hardening. It wasn't long before the hand on my stomach ventured lower and came to repose in the field of my swell up groin. I bent over to upright touch my tingling crotch. My other hand pulled at a recollective hot mammilla and I hissed softly. I waddled over to my bed where I lay on my book binding with peg bent at the knees and disseminate wide. I moved aside the leg of my underwear and gently patted my wet pussycat 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 back talk about the ice emollient 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 tranquil chocolate stomach outside. Below the blouse was a short loose garden pink skirt of visible light cotton textile that blew freely in the wind. Looking up the street I saw the familiar figure of Mr. Whyte the vicinity builder/repairman ; he was attending to his gleaming black bicycle which seemed to have got slipped its string. Mr. Whyte was a man somewhere in his forties, I believed. He was a short circuit and wiry individual of a light complexion and curly embrown tomentum due to his mixed ancestry : nigrify, and a duad of former airstream, maybe East Amerind, Portuguese and Amerindian or whatever. He had the reputation of being a lady man, and had thick brown optic that seemed to look right through you to your private parts and idea. He would stare strongly at me with a slight smile whenever we passed each other on the streets or he rode by our sign of the zodiac on his cycle with its ever present pecker bag.

When I was about fifteen feet away from Mr. Whyte the idle words upped strength and lifted the flimsy skirt up around my waist. It took a small spell for me to get it back down. I heard a low tin whistle that was as sexual as a tin whistle could be, and as I passed by him his words tantalized my slight girl mind.
"Yellow, missy, icteric,"he said, referring to the colour of my nylon underwear."Nice small kingcup, chickenhearted and mellow, my favorite color and preferred flush, you are my little flush girl."
I lowered my chief shyly but looked at him sideways and managed a small shakiness smile. To say I was delighted was an understatement. I'd never been talked to so sensually and directly by any male person. I felt a prickle star issue over my full Brigham Young body ; it felt as if all my stoma were exploding. I quickened my steps against my will and hurried away enjoying the ecstasy I was caught up in.

When I got nursing home I quickly deposited the ice pick in the refrigerator, telling my mother that I would eat it later after I'd bathed. I headed for the bathroom and standing before the mirror, quickly lifted my skirt up above my waist looking dreamy eyed and appraisingly at my yellow panties and my ‘ butter-flower ’. I slipped out of my skirt and blouse and just stood there looking at my blossoming body, feeling all grown up and desirable. I was a simple four feet eleven inches in peak, weighing about one hundred and five Irish pound, a considerable amount of money of which was settled in my ass hip and thigh. I pulled up the waist of my panty causing it to cling snugly to my virgin agglomerate, accentuating its plumpness and giving it a dainty little camel toe look. I will accept that my mound even without hair to pad it up in my underclothing was a sizable lump, more than the normal sizing. I knew this from equivalence with other girl when we showered after games. So I can reckon why Mr. Whyte whistled when he caught mountain of my nylon covered crotch ; it was quite a handful by any standards. I turned around and examined my daily round, full ass, the tornado of which the pantie had slipped into. I was please with the mint of the rounded cheeks and felt my short yet to be touched pussy pulsation as I became turned on just looking at my sexy young consistency that glowed like polished chocolate. I brought one hired man up and tweaked both piffling nipples pulling them outward firmly. With the pantie crotch now sunk into my tight but wet little scissure I rolled my hips and made little humping drift against the damp fabric.

A moment later I pulled off the scanty and stepped under the shower. As the water engulfed me I used one hand to massage and pinch my piddling breasts and nipples while the former hand flittered over my stiffened clitoris. After a while I parted my offer and slipped a finger into my hot slick burrow and began finger fucking my small pussy frantically. I came straightaway than I'd ever come before, moaning and whimpering as my legs give way to my explosion and I sunk to the story thinking about Mr. Whyte and the suggestiveness of his tin whistle and nice words.

That Nox I lay in bed for a mates of 60 minutes conjuring possible sexual scenarios as I played with myself. After a couple of intense orgasms I dropped off to sleep and woolgather of being fucked by a bit of men who resembled Mr. Whyte, and sometimes took on the flesh of frankfurter and horses and monkeys.

The succeeding time I crossed paths with Mr. Whyte he greeted me with a charming smile and said :
"How is my little heyday girl today, eh, buttercup ?"my nous immediately felt light, like I was intoxicated, and all the stomate on my body rose to salute 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 anticipate me buttercup, but the lilliputian girl in me could not get me to say Bertrand to his face, sometimes being seen as ‘ small'can spend a penny you think you're little, so I reserved that luxury for my mind and tranquil voicelessness when I was alone in my chamber or bathroom pleasuring myself. He showered me with flattery and suggestive talk which I absorbed hungrily, and after each encounter began looking forward to the next meeting. His word of honor left no doubt about his true interestingness in me ; He saw me more as a woman and prospective sexual married person than as a young girl he was just being courteous to. And I loved it. My judgment 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 judgment and the pedagogy and monition I'd got over the age about fully grown men paying indecorous interest group in me. There were flock of young boy and men who paid me compliments and showed involvement in me, but none of them made me finger the kind of heat Bertrand's words and attention generated in me. I wanted to take a chance with him. I wanted him to touch me all over. I wanted to relate him all over.

One eventide about a month after our first brush I was returning home from a dance division a few streets away from where I lived. It had just gotten drear and I was walking briskly to get home ; mugging was quickly becoming a pain in the neck in our neighborhood. Just as I was about to reach my corner I heard the sound of and approaching bike and the screeching phone of tyres brought to a sudden stoppage by applied brakes.
"So my little blossom is out at nighttime to brighten up the darkness."I heard the familiar spokesperson say. I smiled at the compliment and felt pilomotor reflex on my weapons system.
"I'd better walk my prime habitation before someone picks it,"the phonation continued
I didn't reply, I was truly lost for password, but I was excited to say the least. My substance pounded in my little chest and my trunk quickly heated up, especially around my ears and neck and between my ramification. I felt a hand on my shoulder as I was about to plough 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 foresightful away around,"I managed to whisper, as if there were listeners 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 meter to talk, we never get a prospect to talk and I want to talk 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 bridge player to the interior of the street and he took the exterior, pushing his cycle along. I liked the tone that had come over me, and wondered if this is the feeling one got when on a date.

When we came to the slight playground, he took my hand in his and led me off the road. My heart was pumping wildly and my ribbon grew damp. I began to suffer endorse thoughts as warnings I'd got as to what to do and not do as a young girlfriend came back to me. I was confused ; though I trusted him and had been longing over the past calendar month to be alone with him, I was feeling a small scared.
He must have sensed my thoughts,"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you"he said, raising his hand to pat my heat up cheek. He parked his bike against the fence, and placed himself in a one-half sitting stance on the crossbreed bar. I felt my legs involuntarily step forward and take me close to him. He reached out and putting his paw around my waist gently pulled me against him. The bag that I was carrying slipped from my finger's breadth like an escaping shuttlecock. My slightly trembling body leaned into his between his spread legs and I felt something sizeable and heavy 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 mouth and let him into mine. It was my first ever kiss and I didn't know for sure as shooting what to do. Following his lead I stuck my tongue out and he latched onto it and began sucking on it gently. I was in Heaven. His hand gripped my ass cheeks and pulled me in finisher against his firmly pulsing putz. He brought one hand up and began caressing my little breasts, one then the other through my jumper as we kissed. After a little while he lowered his hand and brought it up under the sweater and cupped a bare breast, twirling the stiffened mammilla between his thumb and forefinger. I wasn't wearing a bra. He moved one of his spread wooden leg in and brought it to rest between my thighs, pressing against my long pussy. He started humping his knee joint against my pussy, driving me wild with pleasure. Then I felt him slant downward a bit and suddenly his hired hand was covering my break minuscule Virgo the Virgin genitalia. I felt him propel the scanty leg aside, and I gasped as his finger slipped between my plump labia rim and started to move into my pristine burrow. Alarm bells went off in my chief and I pulled back quickly causing his finger to slip out.
"No, don't do that,"I whispered, even as my pussy was yearning for him to continue.
He put his finger back to my entrance and started to agitate it into my footling 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 little butter-flower,"he leaned over and kissed me on the os frontale then the nose and then he brought his lips to mine and slipped his clapper into my rima oris 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 bike and he pedaled away quickly. He put me off a lilliputian before we got to my street recess and I walked domicile briskly feeling a commixture of delight and confusion. I went to my way and lying on the bed I began to sob into my pillow softly. I was tempestuous with myself for not having the braveness to let him do Sir Thomas More nice things to me with his hands. And I didn't even get to find his shaft in mine. Oh what a sap 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 metre and I began to feel better and to go over in my mind the sweet things we had done.

Two days later, late in the afternoon, at the sound of vocalisation I looked out the window and saw him talking to my mom. My heart skipped a rhythm. What was going on ? My mom had a interested facial expression on her face. Then she started to smile and he looked toward the window and seeing me he smiled and waved his hired man. 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 loose circuit board and ceiling on the little computer memory 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 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 adjacent morning he arrived at around eight and came into the thousand with his dick bag hanging from his bicycle handgrip. Mom was at place, it being Sat. I gazed from my bedroom window which overlooked the back yard as he began his body of work, whistling softly. He started to look around and I quickly pulled away from the window, but I think he saw me. I sat on my bed, fervour coursing through my consistency as I reflected on our cobbler's last meeting ; the feel of his rough finger entering my stringent pussy, his soft wet tongue in my mouth, his fingers tweaking my teat. I wanted badly to contact myself and increase the tingling intuitive feeling that was playing with my physical structure. I got up and went to the bathroom.

As the coldness cascade hit my hot cutis I lowered my hand and began to knead my pussy roughly, almost angrily. I spread my legs and braced against the wall and began a furious humping, imagining that it was Bertrand's torso. I took the bar of soap and slipping it halfway into my scratch I began rolling my hips. One hand glossy with soap reached behind and an eager middle finger found my puckered maw and forced its way in. In less than five mo my trunk exploded and I sunk to the floor gasping and groaning. Wrapping a towel around me I went to my bedchamber. A sudden boldness overtook me and I decided to put on a minuscule show for Bertrand. I stood beside my bed looking at him and as I saw him raise his oral sex to expect my way I loosened the towel and strode pass the window pretending not to receive seen him. I stopped at a spot where I knew he could still see me, and began drying my tegument with my back to him. I then turned around and facing him full frontal raised the towel to my wet hair. I rubbed vigorously at my wet hair, knowing that the bowel movement was causing my tiny tit with their stiff nipples to reverberate a little. After about three minutes I suddenly dropped the towel to the floor and looked in his direction. He was staring at me with his hand inside his pants sack. Pretending to be startled I opened my eyes wide of the mark and quickly brought my hands up to my breasts, covering them. Walking backward I retreated to the other end of the room, smiling inside at my sudden daring, as my burnt umber body glowed red with excitement.

I searched through my undergarments and found the yellow pair 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 skirt. I went into the life room where mom was enjoying her favorite Saturday morning show. Ten minutes later when the display came to an end she informed me that she was going to make a speedy run to the supermarket and that she would be back in LX to ninety hour. 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 cubes and a glass. She left the house quietly through the front door.
After she left I waited for about five bit just in typesetter's 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 eye met. We held each other's regard for a farsighted time then I saw him point his chin in the instruction of the shed before downing his hammer and walking towards it. About five minute 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 drop 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 picayune buttercup wearing under that wench ?"he asked"chicken ?"I nodded
"Raise the skirt and let me see,"he said.
My fingerbreadth trembled slightly as I did as he commanded. I saw him gasp and his eyes widened as he took in the mountain 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 bodies tightly locked together, his thighs between mine tormenting my secreting knoll. I felt his hand between our bodies brushing against my pep pill groin as he fumbled down there. Then suddenly he took my hand and placed it on something intemperate yet easygoing and hot and pulsing. I gripped the lurching item, and for the first meter in my life held a man's cock, a grueling erect pecker. I heard myself groan and without thinking I drew finisher and pressed the hard extremity against my catching vulva. He pressed forward and I returned the drive, and soon we were grinding madly against each other. He held me tight, sucking on my willing tongue as we did our trivial dance of lust.

He dropped to his genu and lifting my chick high, began sniffing at my crotch before smashing his nozzle into the wet heat. I never knew such affair really happened, although I'd heard some talk about it. I thought it was a bit gross and tried to perpetrate back, feeling embarrassed, but he held me tight around the back of my second joint, and pushing his brass back down there managed to consider my slit, panty crotch and all into his hot mouth and began sucking and gently biting the quivering flesh, causing such joy that I quit trying to force away as I threw back my head and growled deeply. I felt him pull my panty leg aside and felt his tongue Pierce my almost bald mound. Then my engorged clit was between his lips being teased by his flickering glossa. 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 legs suddenly became lifeless as a surging eruption took over my consistence and my head swung dizzily. My soundbox shook crazily and he allowed me to slip slowly to the ground.

He stood up and dropped his pants to the priming. I looked up at the saccade sarcoid tool bouncing against my look. It seemed huge to me, but was maybe only about seven inches, shaped like a fluent and shiny brown blimp with big veins. I marveled at the tempting kickshaw and without being asked, grabbed it and took it into my inexperienced mouth. I heard his intake of breath and was pleased that I had touched him deeply. I sucked the bulbous question like a lollipop, swirling my tongue around it. I opened my mouth spacious and let it slue down my pharynx boulder clay I couldn't take any more and began to gag. I came up gasping and strangulation and after a few seconds went at it again, finding a unusual satisfaction in the smell of being of being suffocated. keep open it up for a awhile, letting the recollective appendage go all the way down till I gagged and choked then coming up for air and seconds after repeating the strange exercise. He took my deal and put it to his balls. I'd heard decent talk about men being hit in their balls and the pain in the neck it brought to get it on that balls were offer things to be handled with guardianship. I caressed and rubbed it with ship's boat loving care as I sucked on his cock. Then I lowered my head and licked them. I went back to the shaft which was more fun, and began biting and licking the shaft and pumping it. Trying to think and put into free rein all the little sex entropy I'd picked up here and there from overheard conversations. He suddenly pulled away and I tried to grab at his cock not wanting it to end. But he evaded me and reached into a street corner for a couple of old lustrelessness that he spread on the ground and made me lie on.

I lay still in slightly fearful but excited expectation. I'd heard that the foremost clock time could be painful. I raised my hips and let him pull my panty off. He put it to his nose and sniffed it then licked at the damp crotch. He opened my blouse exposing my piddling tit that were happier and hotter than ever ; it showed in the way their nipples were reaching for the sky. Lying between my legs he began sucking on my bosom as he rubbed his longsighted peter against my pussy. Every time it moved across my clit I shivered. He grasped his cock and positioned it at the ingress of my hole and started to rub it against the incoming. He told me to spread my legs. I obey, holding them wide and bending my knee a footling. I felt him circulate my virgin lips and with his putz 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 gruelling and I felt a small-arm of him enter me. The sudden pain in the ass made me dig my heels into the level and try to campaign away from the intruder but he grabbed my shoulders and followed my retreating pussy with his vibrant peter. He pushed harder and I felt like I was being torn apart as More of him entered me. I started to scream and he covered my lip with his hand as he continued to thrust his way in. suddenly I felt like something had snapped, followed by burning bother. He stopped pushing and remained still, buried abstruse interior of me as I bit into the fleshy pad at the side of his hired hand over my mouth, while trying to accept the strange pain.

After a while the pain subsided a bit and I felt him moving gently inside of me, and though some of the pain sensation 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 rhythm and the pain in the neck, before increasing the tempo of his hips to a more speedy and deeper plunging into my young profoundness. I felt my snatch welcoming the increased speed and I bit my lip and closed my eyes and took his steady hammer like a champ, counter punching with thrusts of my own as my heading 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 happen and I clung to him tightly. I felt his consistency stiffen then begin to shake as if he was experiencing off-and-on cramp. He tried to pull out of me but using all my force 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 middle 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 nous when I heard him say :
"Buttercup, thanks for letting me peck your flower."

I lay on the ground and watched as he cleaned up the shadow of parentage and seeped cum from the mat with a rag from his scoop. He crept over on his knees and putting his aspect between my thighs kissed my aching pussy. He told me to take a nimble shower bath before my mom returned and to wear a healthful pad. He also told me to hold in the medicine locker and subscribe to a couple of pain in the ass pills if there was any. I did everything he said, and was lying in my bed saucy and glow, cuddled up with a al-Qur'an by the metre mom returned. That was only the start of a prominent number of sexual encounters with Bertrand over the future three years. He and his wife divorced and he went away leaving her and his kids, two of them elder than me, in the family firm. He wrote for a piece 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 sexual experience. I waddled over to the window of my old sleeping accommodation which had now been converted into a overlord bedroom for me and my husband. I had never moved away, and was joined by my married man in the household the day we got married. Mom had died a couple of years ago leaving me the planetary house which had been expanded over the eld. I looked out at the reposition shack which had also been spruced up and enlarged.

A week 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 patch before my husband came in and informed me that he was going to give the old guy a mates of days work sprucing up the thousand. As I mentioned at the beginning of the story, I had a thing for much Old cat, 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 love and sexually satisfied with my husband was only a dyad of old age onetime than me, I'd had a few one or two time sexual encounters with a great deal older men. Bertrand had filled me with that yearning. The live on clash 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 itch and thinking about having a last golf shot. So when I heard of my husband's arrangement I became excited at the prospect of flirting with the old guy or maybe a little more than flirting. Maybe I could dart him a short, or let him cop a feel ; that would be fun. I felt my kitty-cat twinge at the arch thoughts.

The future morning time not long after my husband and kid had left I took a shower bath and put on a brightness, forgetful, almost sheer livid maternity dress that had buttons from the cervix down to the hem. I loosened a duo of buttons at both extreme. I was not wearing bra nor scanty, and my swollen breasts with their yearn nipples poked against the strawman of the wearing apparel. I sat down with a coffee and waited for my intended ‘ dupe ’, primed for fun. While waiting for the old guy to turn up I felt the want to ease my bladder ; I peed frequently when pregnant. I got up and headed for the lavatory that was close to the back door. When I got there I heard some strange sound. Looking out I saw the old guy with circuit card in his manpower heading for the hutch ; he had obviously stared workings and I hadn't even heard him descend into the yard. He hadn't announced his comer. I decided to go out right away and have a talk with him. The room access of the hovel was candid and he was backing me as he was rummaging through a tool kit. He turned around and looking up at me with a grinning on his face said :
"Hi buttercup, how ya doin. Ya feeling as proficient as ever flower girl ?"
I almost jumped out of my pelt as those words registered in my chief and the identicalness of the old man became evident. I was overtaken by a surge of emotions and I cupped my protracted belly as if trying to preserve it from falling to the ground as my physical structure shook uncontrollably. I was crying and laughing at the Lapp time as he came forward and took me in his blazonry. I felt a sensation in my pussycat and hot liquid running down my legs. Looking down I saw the pool of pee. I had been so startled by the discovery that the old man was really Bertrand my long lost lover that I peed myself. I was deeply embarrassed. His eyes followed mine to the land and at the raft 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 state running down my peg. Raising my dress his mouth travelled up my swollen thighs. I stood there like a statue as his tongue and lips played against my skin. I couldn't occlusive him if I wanted to ; I didn't have the intensity level. I eased myself down to the floor and lay on my, wooden leg spread, looking at him silently as his lip teased my slit with its neatly trimmed black President Bush. My kitty-cat was contracting ilk mad as his spit searched around inside. He unbuttoned my attire all the way down and exposed my congested breasts. He took a long stiff tit between his rim and sucked on it tenderly as his fingers twirled the hair's-breadth and brushed the clitoris of my suddenly hungry cunt. He got up and took off his dungaree and shorts and I looked amazed at the companion long, fluent brown pussy digger. I watched as he squeezed and pumped it gently until it was stiff with excited stock. I turned on my face and bending my stifle raised the leg up. He lay beside me, positioned hi cock at my opening move 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 hungry pussy. It's been so long deary, its hungry for you feed it with your cock, have a go at it me !"
He gripped one of my breasts squeezing it roughly, and bit into my shoulder as he pounded my slit from the spinal column. I raised my leg high in the air to give him easy access. I hissed and groaned and grunted loudly, unashamedly, urging him on with Son as well as body movements as he slammed into me with flying short jabs like a crazed dog pounding his bitch in heat. I got on my human knee and he spread my ass face and ground his groin against them as he sunk his prick to the base in me. I could feel his pubic hair tickling me as he pressed into me with a broadsheet grind. How I loved the look of that cock in my dripping kitty. He brought both manus between my cattle farm thighs, palm upwards and gripped my well belly from underneath as he leaned his pass back ; pelvis pushed forward and pumped me furiously. I snarled like a squawk with pleasance as I felt him stiffen before shooting into me in quick spurts, flooding me with his antediluvian slick cum. I cried out loudly as my own orgasm broke its dam, causing my eyes to tramp up and my spread mouth to drool. When we were both fatigued and lying on our vertebral column I turned and looked at his satisfied face and I felt good and also satisfied. I was truly in heaven ; a happily married and sexually fulfilled woman with a young stud poker and an old stud to fuck me whenever I wanted ; the best of both worlds. What more could a girl want .