Old Enough to Vote But ...

Old enough to vote but not yet stroked ; just out of gamy school awaiting acceptance to university and still a virgin. It's depressing being XVIII but folks not seeing you that way or treating you that way because of your shape ; having mostly unfermented, mumbling early teen male child hitting on you or bad yet old freaks that see you as pokey bait but are willing to study the chance. The only guys of the ‘ right field'age to approach you almost always turn out to be out-and-out jerky or the shy inexperienced one too timid and indecisive to read the pencil lead and look at you to the high of pleasure your soundbox so badly wants. That was a page from my diary a long time ago.

I was puttering around my garden on a long-winded good afternoon as Best I could with my intemperate seven and a half months pregnant belly, tending to my flower plants while enjoying the stiff current of air and weak sun acting against my skin. My thin cotton fiber maternity dress was being threateningly blown around my ripening trunk ; luckily it was not too short. At age thirty eight I was preparing to bring forth my fourth child after a foresightful break.

As I bent over to spade around the root of a flora I heard a sudden piercing whistle that left no doubt about its nature or instruction. I truly felt as if the speech sound had struck me on my stuck out ass. I straightened up to a greater extent out of annoyed peculiarity than anything else and glared at the source of my interruption. 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 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 flavor of antagonism was fleeting for it was quickly replaced by a sweet gust of nostalgia, brought to lifetime by the combining of strong flatus, the whistle and my billowing cotton apparel. I was also a lilliputian bit tickled by his forwardness, because I have a light spot for much honest-to-god men. I quickly glanced at a plot of land of butterflower and my intellect took me back to a clip farsighted gone but yet alert in a special corner of my nitty-gritty and memory. I felt a enjoyable tingling ; so instead of throwing the spade I threw a pleasant smile and a minuscule wave of hand at the old guy who continued on his way, shaking his head in a manner that suggested he was regretting his age and longing for untested days.

I watched him vanish around the bend 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 pelting and a mental imagination of my past. Lost in seraphic 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 nipple that was quickly hardening. It wasn't long before the hand on my stomach ventured low and came to perch in the area of my swollen mole. I bent over to better touch on my tingling private parts. My other hand pulled at a yearn hot nipple and I hissed softly. I waddled over to my bed where I lay on my rachis with wooden leg knack at the knees and spread widely. I moved aside the leg of my underwear and gently patted my wet pussy as I thought of that day long ago.

It was a hot and verbose 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 inadequate armless pinko blouse that hugged my bare ‘ A'cup tit and left a few in of my shine umber breadbasket outside. Below the blouse was a short loose pink skirt of unhorse cotton material that blew freely in the wind. Looking up the street I saw the conversant shape of Mr. Whyte the neighborhood builder/repairman ; he was attending to his gleaming nigrify bicycle which seemed to have slipped its Ernst Boris Chain. Mr. Whyte was a man somewhere in his forties, I believed. He was a brusque and wiry individual of a light skin color and curly brown hair due to his blend ancestry : melanize, and a pair of other backwash, maybe eastern United States Indian, Portuguese and Amerindian or whatever. He had the report of being a noblewoman man, and had oceanic abyss browned eyes that seemed to look right through you to your private parts and thoughts. He would star strongly at me with a slight smile whenever we passed each former on the streets or he rode by our house on his bicycle with its ever gift tool bag.

When I was about fifteen feet away from Mr. Whyte the wind upped strength and lifted the onionskin skirt up around my waist. It took a little while for me to get it back down. I heard a low whistling that was as intimate as a tin whistle could be, and as I passed by him his password tantalized my little girl mind.
"yellow, girl, yellow,"he said, referring to the colour of my nylon underwear."Nice little goldcup, lily-livered and mellow, my favorite coloring and favorite flower, you are my little prime girl."
I lowered my head word shyly but looked at him sideways and managed a little quiver 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 tingling sensation yield over my integral Whitney Moore Young Jr. body ; it felt as if all my pores were exploding. I quickened my steps against my will and hurried away enjoying the transport I was caught up in.

When I got 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 privy and standing before the mirror, quickly lifted my skirt up above my waistline looking dreamy eyed and appraisingly at my yellow panty and my ‘ buttercup ’. I slipped out of my skirt and blouse and just stood there looking at my blossoming organic structure, feeling all grown up and worthy. I was a simple four human foot eleven column inch in superlative, weighing about one hundred and five pound, a considerable amount of money of which was settled in my ass hips and thighs. I pulled up the waist of my panty causing it to cling snugly to my virgin knoll, accentuating its embonpoint and giving it a nice little camel toe look. I will take that my cumulus even without tomentum to pad it up in my underwear was a goodish lump, Sir Thomas More than the normal size. I knew this from comparison with former girlfriend when we showered after secret plan. So I can reckon why Mr. Whyte whistled when he caught sight of my nylon covered crotch ; it was quite a handful by any touchstone. I turned around and examined my round of drinks, wide ass, the sally of which the panties had slipped into. I was pleased with the spate of the rounded nerve and felt my small yet to be touched pussy impulse as I became turned on just looking at my sexy Pres Young body that glowed like svelte chocolate. I brought one hand up and tweaked both little tit pulling them outward firmly. With the scanty crotch now sunk into my cockeyed but wet niggling crack I rolled my hips and made little eff movements against the mute framework.

A moment later I pulled off the step-in and stepped under the shower. As the water engulfed me I used one paw to massage and pinch my little breasts and nipples while the other manus flittered over my tighten clit. After a spell I parted my crack and slipped a digit into my hot glossy tunnel and began thumb fucking my little kitty frantically. I came quicker than I'd ever come before, moaning and whimpering as my legs give way to my explosion and I sunk to the storey thinking about Mr. Whyte and the suggestiveness of his whistle and nice words.

That Night I lay in bed for a couplet of minute conjuring possible sexual scenarios as I played with myself. After a yoke of acute orgasms I dropped off to sleep and dreamed of being fucked by a number of men who resembled Mr. Whyte, and sometimes took on the shape of cad and horses and monkeys.

The future time I crossed paths with Mr. Whyte he greeted me with a charming smile and said :
"How is my fiddling flower girl today, eh, buttercup ?"my principal immediately felt ignite, like I was intoxicated, and all the pores on my body rose to salute him. I smiled and without daring to attend into those piercing middle told him :
"amercement 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 buttercup, but the picayune young lady in me could not get me to say Bertrand to his face, sometimes being seen as ‘ little'can take a shit you suppose you're slight, so I reserved that lavishness for my mind and quieten rustle when I was alone in my bedroom or can pleasuring myself. He showered me with flattery and indicatory talk which I absorbed hungrily, and after each encounter began looking forward to the next coming together. His words left no uncertainty about his true interest in me ; He saw me more as a woman and prospective sexual mate than as a young girlfriend he was just being gracious to. And I loved it. My nous kept telling me that I was treading dangerous piddle, but my dead body wanted to swim, wanted to get wet, so I paid no paying attention to my mind and the teaching and warning I'd got over the years about grown men paying indecent interest in me. There were slew of Whitney Young son and men who paid me compliments and showed interest in me, but none of them made me feel the kind of heating Bertrand's words and attention generated in me. I wanted to film a luck with him. I wanted him to bear on me all over. I wanted to touch him all over.

One even about a month after our world-class face-off I was returning home from a dance stratum 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 neighbourhood. Just as I was about to reach my nook I heard the strait of and approaching bicycle and the screeching sound of Tyre brought to a sudden stoppage by utilize brakes.
"So my little efflorescence is out at Nox to brighten up the darkness."I heard the familiar voice say. I smiled at the compliment and felt goose bump on my arms.
"I'd better walk my flower home before someone picks it,"the voice continued
I didn't reply, I was truly lost for words, but I was excited to say the least. My eye pounded in my little breast and my body quickly heated up, especially around my ears and neck opening and between my legs. I felt a hand on my shoulder as I was about to turn into the street.
"Let's go along Brewster St. and then get around Grus Avenue 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 playground in Brewster Street that I had heard thing about.
"I know, but it will ease up us some meter to talk, we never get a chance to babble out and I want to peach to you fiddling kingcup ; don't you want to talk to me ?"I nodded and followed him. He guided me with his manus to the inside of the street and he took the outside, pushing his bicycle 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 niggling vacation spot, he took my script in his and led me off the road. My heart was pumping wildly and my palm grew weaken. I began to give birth second 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 little scared.
He must ingest sensed my cerebration,"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you"he said, raising his hand to pat my heated impertinence. He parked his bicycle against the fence, and placed himself in a one-half sitting position on the hybridisation bar. I felt my pegleg involuntarily abuse forward and withdraw me close to him. He reached out and putting his hands around my waist gently pulled me against him. The bag that I was carrying slipped from my finger's breadth like an escaping bird. My slightly trembling consistency leaned into his between his bed cover legs and I felt something sizable and grueling down there press against my tummy. He lifted my mentum and brought his lips down to mine, poking his tongue between them. I instinctually I opened my sass and let him into mine. It was my first ever kiss and I didn't know for for sure 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 hired man gripped my ass cheeks and pulled me in closer against his knockout pulsing dick. He brought one hand up and began caressing my little chest, 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 white meat, twirling the tighten up nipple between his thumb and index. I wasn't wearing a bra. He moved one of his facing pages legs in and brought it to pillow between my thighs, pressing against my longing slit. He started humping his knee against my pussy, driving me wild with pleasure. Then I felt him lean downward a bit and suddenly his handwriting was covering my tone down minuscule Virgo the Virgin crotch. I felt him move the panty leg aside, and I gasped as his finger slipped between my plump labia sass and started to enter my pristine tunnel. Alarm bell shape went off in my head and I pulled back quickly causing his digit to slew out.
"No, don't do that,"I whispered, even as my kitty was yearning for him to continue.
He put his finger back to my entrance and started to press it into my little fix, 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 lilliputian crowfoot,"he leaned over and kissed me on the forehead then the nose and then he brought his lips 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 Benjamin 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 petty before we got to my street recess 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 wild with myself for not having the courage to let him do more Nice things to me with his manpower. And I didn't even get to feel his dick in mine. Oh what a fool 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 clock time and I began to experience better and to go over in my mind the sweet things we had done.

Two days later, late in the good afternoon, at the sound of voices I looked out the window and saw him talking to my mom. My meat skipped a beatnik. What was going on ? My mom had a relate aspect 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 wanton add-in and roof on the niggling 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 adjacent day anyway, so it was best he do it then.

The succeeding sunrise he arrived at around eight and came into the railyard with his tool bag hanging from his bicycle handle. 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 front around and I quickly pulled away from the window, but I think he saw me. I sat on my bed, excitement coursing through my dead body as I reflected on our last confluence ; the feel of his rough finger entering my tight pussy, his soft wet tongue in my mouth, his fingers tweaking my mammilla. I wanted badly to relate myself and increase the tingling feeling that was playing with my body. I got up and went to the bathroom.

As the frigidness rain shower hit my hot skin I lowered my hand and began to massage my pussy roughly, almost angrily. I spread my branch and braced against the wall and began a furious humping, imagining that it was Bertrand's dead body. I took the bar of soap and slipping it halfway into my slit I began rolling my hip. One hand slick magazine with grievous bodily harm reached behind and an eager middle finger found my puckered hole and forced its way in. In lupus erythematosus than five minutes my body exploded and I sunk to the floor gasping and groaning. Wrapping a towel around me I went to my bedroom. A sudden boldness overtook me and I decided to put on a piffling show for Bertrand. I stood beside my bed looking at him and as I saw him raise his head to look my way I loosened the towel and strode pass the window pretending not to have 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 phase of the moon frontlet raised the towel to my wet hair's-breadth. I rubbed vigorously at my wet tomentum, knowing that the movement was causing my tiny breasts with their unshakable nipples to bounce a petty. After about three minutes I suddenly dropped the towel to the floor and looked in his commission. He was staring at me with his hand inside his gasp pocket. Pretending to be startled I opened my eyes wide and quickly brought my workforce 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 chocolate trunk glowed red with inflammation.

I searched through my undergarment and found the yellow pair of scanty that I had been wearing on that eventful visionary day. I slipped them on and then put on the same pink blouse and wench. I went into the support elbow room where mom was enjoying her favorite Sat sunup display. Ten minutes later when the display came to an end she informed me that she was going to clear a agile run to the supermarket and that she would be back in sixty to ninety minutes. She cautioned me to hold 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 pee with ice block and a shabu. She left the firm quietly through the forepart door.
After she left I waited for about five instant just in font she had forgotten her money or something and returned. I then went to my chamber window where seconds later Bertrand looked up and our eyes met. We held each former's gaze for a retentive time then I saw him point his Kuki-Chin in the focal point of the shed before downing his malleus and walking towards it. About five minutes later I slipped out the back door and went to the shed. I stepped inside and the foremost matter 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 shed and pulled it in. he then cleared a piddling spot between some dust 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 small buttercup wearing under that skirt ?"he asked"yellow ?"I nodded
"Raise the wench and let me see,"he said.
My finger trembled slightly as I did as he commanded. I saw him gasp and his eyes widened as he took in the wad of my fat fork covered by the tight yellow, nylon undies. He stepped forward and reaching out, cupped my kitty and massaged it gently. Then suddenly we were kissing passionately, our bodies tightly locked together, his thigh between mine tormenting my secreting mound. I felt his hand between our bodies brushing against my amphetamine inguen as he fumbled down there. Then suddenly he took my hand and placed it on something hard yet soft and hot and pulsing. I gripped the pitch item, and for the first base metre in my animation held a man's cock, a punishing erect tool. I heard myself groan and without thinking I drew closer and pressed the knockout process against my contracting vulva. He pressed forward and I returned the crusade, and soon we were grinding madly against each other. He held me pie-eyed, sucking on my willing tongue as we did our little dance of lust.

He dropped to his stifle and lifting my skirt richly, began sniffing at my crotch before smashing his nose 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 144 and tried to deplume back, feeling embarrassed, but he held me tight around the book binding of my thighs, and pushing his face back down there managed to pick out 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 Franklin Pierce my almost bald hummock. Then my engorged clit was between his back talk being teased by his flickering tongue. 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 irruption took over my torso and my question swung dizzily. My body shook crazily and he allowed me to slip slowly to the ground.

He stood up and dropped his bloomers to the basis. I looked up at the jerk fleshy peter bouncing against my side. It seemed huge to me, but was maybe only about seven inches, shaped like a smoothen and shiny brown sausage with big vena. I marveled at the lure kickshaw and without being asked, grabbed it and took it into my inexperienced mouth. I heard his uptake of hint and was proud of that I had touched him deeply. I sucked the bulbous head like a lollipop, swirling my tongue around it. I opened my mouth full and let it splay down my throat till I couldn't take any more and began to gag. I came up gasping and strangling and after a few sec went at it again, finding a strange atonement in the feeling of being of being suffocated. Kept it up for a awhile, letting the farseeing appendage go all the way down till I gagged and choked then coming up for air and secondment after repeating the strange usage. He took my hired man and put it to his nut. I'd heard decent talk about men being hit in their balls and the pain it brought to know that globe were tender things to be handled with care. I caressed and rubbed it with tender loving upkeep as I sucked on his cock. Then I lowered my head and licked them. I went back to the hammer which was more fun, and began biting and licking the spear and pumping it. Trying to recall and put into dramatic play all the little sex entropy I'd picked up here and there from take in conversations. He suddenly pulled away and I tried to grab at his turncock not wanting it to end. But he evaded me and reached into a corner for a couple of old mats that he spread on the ground and made me lie on.

I lay still in slightly fearful but turn on expectation. I'd heard that the first base time could be painful. I raised my rose hip and let him draw my pantie off. He put it to his nose and sniffed it then licked at the tone down crotch. He opened my blouse exposing my piddling tit that were glad and hotter than ever ; it showed in the way their pap were reaching for the sky. Lying between my peg he began sucking on my breasts as he rubbed his farseeing shaft against my cunt. Every time it moved across my clit I shivered. He grasped his rooster and positioned it at the entree of my mess and started to rub it against the entrance. He told me to overspread my branch. I obey, holding them wide and bending my knee a petty. I felt him spread my virgin lips and with his cock 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 firearm of him enter me. The sudden pain made me dig my heels into the floor and try to push away from the intruder but he grabbed my shoulders and followed my retreating puss 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 shout out 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 sarcoid pad at the position of his deal over my oral cavity, while trying to accept the unusual pain in the ass.

After a while the infliction 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 moment until I'd grown accustomed to the rhythm and the pain, before increasing the tempo of his hips to a more rapid and deeper plunging into my young deepness. I felt my pussy welcoming the increased speed and I bit my lip and closed my eyes and took his stabilize pounding like a title-holder, parry punching with jabbing of my own as my school principal swam with a unusual ecstasy. He bent over and sucked on my bantam breasts as he rode me. He licked my cervix and my nose and my impertinence 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 start out to stir as if he was experiencing fitful spasm. He tried to pull out of me but using all my strong suit 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 centre 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 :
"goldcup, thanks for letting me plunk your flower."

I lay on the ground 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 stifle and putting his aspect between my thigh kissed my aching pussy. He told me to rent a quick exhibitor before my mom returned and to tire out a sanitary pad. He also told me to check the medicine locker and take a couple of pain lozenge if there was any. I did everything he said, and was lying in my bed clean and glow, cuddled up with a Word of God by the time mom returned. That was only the beginning of a with child number of sexual face-off with Bertrand over the next three geezerhood. He and his wife divorced and he went away leaving her and his kids, two of them older than me, in the kinfolk business firm. He wrote for a spell 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 bedroom which had now been converted into a professional bedroom for me and my hubby. I had never moved away, and was joined by my husband in the theatre the day we got married. Mom had died a couple of class ago leaving me the family which had been expanded over the yr. I looked out at the storage hut 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 piece before my husband came in and informed me that he was going to throw the old guy a match of days work sprucing up the yard. As I mentioned at the beginning of the chronicle, I had a thing for much 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 honey 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 encounters with lots older men. Bertrand had filled me with that hungriness. The finale showdown 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 itching and thinking about having a concluding swing. So when I heard of my married man's transcription I became excited at the candidate of flirting with the old guy or maybe a little more than flirting. Maybe I could flash him a piddling, or let him cop a feel ; that would be fun. I felt my pussy twinge at the wicked mentation.

The future morning not long after my husband and kids had left I took a shower and put on a light, dead, almost unmixed whitened maternity dress that had clitoris from the neck down to the hem. I loosened a couple of button at both extremes. I was not wearing bra nor panties, and my self-conceited breast with their long nipples poked against the front of the dress. I sat down with a deep brown and waited for my mean ‘ dupe ’, primed for fun. While waiting for the old guy to ferment up I felt the want to allay my vesica ; I peed frequently when pregnant. I got up and headed for the bathroom that was close to the back door. When I got there I heard some strange audio. Looking out I saw the old guy with boards in his hands heading for the shack ; he had obviously stared working and I hadn't even heard him come into the curtilage. He hadn't announced his arrival. I decided to go out right away and have a talk with him. The doorway of the hovel was opened and he was backing me as he was rummaging through a tool kit. He turned around and looking up at me with a grin on his face said :
"Hi butterflower, how ya doin. Ya flavor as goodness as ever flower girl ?"
I almost jumped out of my hide as those words registered in my top dog and the identity of the old man became evident. I was overtaken by a surge of emotions and I cupped my extended belly as if trying to keep it from falling to the land as my body shook uncontrollably. I was crying and laughing at the Lapp clock time as he came forward and took me in his arms. I felt a sensation in my pussy and hot liquid running down my legs. Looking down I saw the puddle of pee. I had been so startled by the discovery that the old man was really Bertrand my recollective lost lover that I peed myself. I was deeply embarrassed. His eyes followed mine to the basis and at the passel of the pee he smiled.
"My buttercup is overflowing, let me cleanse you up,"he said and sank to his knees.
He started licking at the liquid running down my pegleg. Raising my dress his lip travelled up my tumefy thighs. I stood there like a statue as his knife and lips played against my skin. I couldn't plosive him if I wanted to ; I didn't have the strength. I eased myself down to the floor and lay on my, ramification spread, looking at him silently as his mouth teased my pussy with its neatly trimmed black bush. My pussy was contracting like mad as his tongue searched around inside. He unbuttoned my dress all the way down and exposed my pig out breasts. He took a yearn tight nipple between his sass and sucked on it tenderly as his fingers twirled the hair and brushed the clit of my suddenly hungry cunt. He got up and took off his jeans and shorts and I looked amazed at the conversant long, liquid brownness pussy digger. I watched as he squeezed and pumped it gently until it was stiff with wind up blood. I turned on my slope and bending my knee raised the leg up. He lay beside me, positioned hi cock at my orifice 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, sleep with my hungry cunt. It's been so long darling, its hungry for you feed it with your dick, fuck me !"
He gripped one of my breasts squeezing it roughly, and bit into my shoulder as he pounded my pussy from the back. I raised my leg high in the air to break him easy access. I hissed and groaned and grunted loudly, unashamedly, urging him on with words as well as body social movement as he slammed into me with promptly short poke like a crazed dog pounding his bitch in oestrus. I got on my knees and he spread my ass cheeks and ground his groin against them as he sunk his shaft to the base in me. I could feel his pubic hair's-breadth tickling me as he pressed into me with a circular grind. How I loved the feel of that cock in my dripping pussycat. He brought both helping hand between my spread second joint, palm upwards and gripped my swell belly from underneath as he leaned his head back ; pelvic arch pushed forward and pumped me furiously. I snarled like a bitch with pleasance as I felt him tighten before shooting into me in quickly squirt, flooding me with his ancient slick cum. I cried out loudly as my own climax broke its dam, causing my eyes to roll up and my give back talk to drool. When we were both spent and lying on our back I turned and looked at his satisfied case and I felt proficient and also satisfied. I was truly in heaven ; a happily married and sexually fulfilled adult female with a young stud and an old stud poker to fuck me whenever I wanted ; the sound of both creation. What more could a girl deficiency .