His chest was phenomenal. The flanks rippled like those of a race horse, the pecs glistening with perspiration, the six pack abdominals standing out in clear, almost startling definition, and the v-lines of his Adonis muscle so deep that a girl could get lost in them if she weren't careful. God, was he in fucking terrific shape for being half a goddamn century old...
And then, Lord help me, he reached for the fly of his dress pants, unbuttoning himself, and undoing the zipper, wriggling down out of the things with some difficulty, the fabric getting stuck on his boner, but at last making its way past, to sit in a crumpled heap on the floor. His blazing erection stretched out the fabric of his boxers so insanely that I thought as he peeled them off that an imprint of his cock would remain embedded into them once they were off his body.
And there he was. Naked, horny as a bastard, with that long, strong, veiny cock staring at me, swaying from his body, a little dribble of jizz seeping out the tip.
I kept my thighs suggestively splayed open for his consideration, and he smiled.
Finally, he put his hands together, and slowly pulled the wedding band from off of his ring finger, then reached around, and opened up a drawer of the dresser behind him. When he turned back around, my breath stopped, as suddenly he was holding a black velvet jewelry box in his hand, looking at me intently.
Holy shit!
I was breathless, my mind reeling, but at the moment I expected him to get down on one fucking knee and propose, he opened up the box...
It was a gold ring, sure as hell...
A gold cock ring...
My astonishment turned into a look of devilish lust, and he smiled right back at me, loving the fact of having duped me, and savoring the chance to use this most exquisite piece of jewelry on me directly.
I watched him slide the metal thing down along the length of his shaft, with some difficulty, as right away it got stuck around his immense bulbous tip, but soon he pushed on past, pushing the ring to his base, and his penis swelling up to a great, metal-solid red rocket.
He slipped into bed with me, and pulled my body into him, his great white Moby Dick sliding along my skin as we groped one another up to the necessary levels of depravity.
He rolled over on his back, and I climbed up on top of him, straddling his waist, and smiling like a demon.
“Oh... Oh... Oh...” I whimpered, as I lowered my self down onto him, and his engorged penis pierced the fleshy sanctity of my body, sinking, sinking, sinking, the tip, every last fucking inch of that incredible shaft, all the way up to his base, until finally my ass touched down on him, and every bit of his manhood was lost inside the sweet hot cave of my vagina.
I put my hands on his chest for support, and began to rock.
I writhed, pumping my chest forward, my breasts bouncing, my abdomen flexing like a snake, as I felt the God-wonderful sensation of my pussy grinding against his pelvis, the fleshy lips distorting, pulling, and flowing around the abrupt obstacle of his penis. The cold metal of the cock ring surged through my body any time my pussy happened to graze it, and I moaned as I pumped, putting my hands on my breasts and pushing them together for his enjoyment and my own arousal, closing my eyes, and listening to him sighing, “Ohhhhh, yeeeeeeah....”
I started bouncing on him, harder, harder, harder, his cock plunging deeper and deeper into the wet sanctity of my nether-regions, the sensations beginning to mount, and moans beginning to issue forth from my quivering lips, “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh...”
And I shrieked, as suddenly the world seemed to shift around me, our limbs tangled together, and my face hitting the bed as he flipped me over like a pancake on a grill.
He pulled out of me, lifting my body up with his hands, and repositioning me on all fours, into the doggy style I was becoming so familiar and enamored with at this point.
He crammed himself back inside, and picked up precisely where we'd left off, but with him in control of the fucking this time, his massive body stuttering into mine like a fucking jackhammer, the smacking of our pelvises making my ass jiggle, our skin making loud, wet, slapping noises as he pounded my lights out, and my tits banging uncontrollably against my chest.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK!”
And he gave one last, loud SLAM into my weary body, holding himself firmly in place, and his cock throb, throb, throbbed, and then came the cum, spilling out in thick, juicy currents of extramarital bliss, spurting through the thin cave of my pussy, and filling me up. The sensation roared through my body like a hurricane, twisting and banging through me, ripping me to my foundation, and making me shake like a sheet in the fucking wind.
He pulled out of me, with a gross, slimy pop, and I lowered myself down off of my hands, my ass sticking exhaustedly up in the air, as I tried to get my bearings about me.
I gasped, however, as I felt his tongue once again enter me, without warning, and in a moment I realized he was slurping up all the cum he'd just blasted into me, running his tongue around and around and around until he'd gathered up every last drop, and sending me through another slight tremble of climax in the process.
When at last he'd extracted every last drop, he pulled me up next to him in the bed, and put his lips against mine. We passed the tangy, salty load back and forth and back and forth between the two of us as we kissed, our lips stringing together with threads of his seed between each great gulp.
At last I swallowed the byproduct whole, sticking out my bare tongue for his inspection, which of course led to him leaning in, and continuing to kiss me.
It was all the unbridled sexual bliss of a honeymoon without the whole pesky “marriage” bit ever coming into play.
Monogamy- 0, Promiscuity- +100.
TO BE CONTINUED....
Bed, Breakfast And Beyond
Chapter 1
We were laughing cordially, in the manner of the good hosts that we were seeing guests out, as slowly we closed the front door of our home, waiting until we heard the sound of the ignition rumbling on, and the tires crunching along the pavement until the two of us dropped our more professional demeanors, and permitted ourselves to speak our minds freely.
Fortunately, this had been one of those encounters that left us with very little bad to say about our guests upon their departure, and the only bad taste in our mouths was one of the very best sort.
I thought my husband and I were on the same page as far as our reaction to our guests was concerned, but just to make sure I waded in carefully, “They were a pretty fun couple... Weren't they?”
He smiled at me, and confirmed, casually, “They were.”
I smiled, sighing, and I allowed myself to be wrapped up in his arms, the two of us always disbelieving with regards to the magical life we'd built up around ourselves by the time our guest's stays reached their conclusions. Derrick leaned in and kissed me, and I kissed him in return, putting my tongue lightly into his mouth, enjoying this brief return to our more private intimacy, even though that which had come before it had hardly been lacking in terms of spice or desire.
Our kiss didn't last especially long, though, as I found it was making me horny all over again as I slowly slipped my lips back away from his, peering up at him with bedroom eyes that were almost redundant at this point. “Let's hope that the Joneses make their way back in our direction someday very, very soon...” I whispered.
He smiled, as though in agreement with me, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he leaned in, pecking my mouth with another quick, gentle kiss, and he said, a little bit distantly, “I'm gonna go look for the mouth wash...”
I smiled at him, thinking, as I watched him turn to go, and then, after a moment or so, I chimed, “me too,” and continued along in his weight.
The narrow stairs of our home creaked as we made our way up to the second story, me just a few paces behind my husband, trying to get into his head and figure out what he might be thinking, but my warm lightheartedness following the morning we'd had with the Joneses making me forget largely about
his opinion.
I strangely loved the fact that these stairs creaked... In fact, there were several similar quirks about this house that I very much savored, and which, as far as I was concerned, had been a rather significant selling point as far as our selection of this particular home for our business had been concerned.
There was just something... I don't know, exactly... Extremely quaint, cozy, about the condition that our house was in, at least as far as I was concerned and, judging by the positive reviews our Bed and Breakfast had almost universally through online listings, the customers didn't all that much begrudge our home its many special quirks, either. Though of course, I'm sure there might have been a few other contributing factors to why our business proved every bit as well received as it was...
At any rate, it wasn't like the place was worn down or rickety to any real degree. It was just, sort of, I guess “old-fashioned,” “rustic,” “antique...” And for me, those were all qualities that the home of a good Bed and Breakfast should possess.
My husband and I lived on the first floor, sleeping in what might normally be considered a guest bedroom, while our upstairs we rented out to individuals or couples, generally on weekends, treating them to a luxurious stay with a number of benefits, which I'll get into in further detail with very, very shortly...
Derrick and I crested the top of the stairs, and my husband continued absently onward toward the bathroom, apparently eager to refresh his palette as quickly as was humanly possible, and once again, I wondered vaguely whether there might be something more going on beneath his surface, which I, as his wife, had regrettably failed to understand.
But again, I grew too distracted to worry about it in that particular moment, stopped as I was outside the bedroom of our guests, in which I myself had been within an hour's time. I now wanted to inspect the damage done, and I peered slowly into the vicinity as I heard my husband opening and closing the door to the bathroom further on.
It looked like the bedroom equivalent of a war zone in there, I saw, much to my bemusement, and a pretty red smile came creasing up across my lips at the sight of it. The king size bed's cozy quilt was all torn from the bed, slumping on the floor with the corners still clinging on for dear life to the boxspring. The sweat soaked sheets were all twisted and mussed, and the fitted sheet at the very bottom had come slipping out of place in one corner.
It was an absolute mess, but I smiled at the still fresh memory of the rampage that had led to such a thorough unraveling- and the thought of it easily made up for the work that cleaning up the aftermath was sure to entail...
At any rate, I changed the sheets and blankets between every stay anyway, lest I have the Health Department or someone crawling up my ass about it, and in my distraction I forgot about my mission to go and rinse with my husband.
I stepped into the room, and began to ball up the wreck of the bedspread in my arms, struggling not to drop anything as the weight gradually overpowered me, and with a last, concerted effort I stripped the fitted sheet from the bed. Clumsily, I carried the wet, fragrant mess of fabric back to the frame of the door, then plopped it down firmly in the middle of the narrow hallway. I was actually a little bit winded at having done this, either more of a weakling than even I had suspected, or else the force required for lifting such a load underestimated by yours truly.
I caught my breath, and stepped back into the room, heading for the dresser to go and find some replacement sheets, when suddenly something caught my attention, lying on the floor, which had apparently been wadded up in the twisting mass of sheets.
Looking around for a moment as though someone might be watching me and might take offense at what I was about to do, I then turned, stooped my body downward, and reached for the item in question.
I brought it up between my fingers into my direct field of vision, and stood staring at the black, lacy, negligible straps of a pair of thong panties, worn to the place by none other than the Mrs. Jones who'd just left, not to mention, very briefly, by Mr. Jones as well, during the course of the excitement that had gone on during the latter portion of their stay.
I smiled intensely, hypnotized by the memory, and then, judge me a creep if you will, I brought the panties up to my face, inhaling them, and letting the afterimage of so many sensations come rattling through my anatomy. I shivered, hunching up my shoulders and biting my lower lip, thrilled by my own naughtiness, and endlessly grateful to the misses for having left this most delightful keepsake behind.
I paused, then, the goosebumps still throbbing across my flesh, and for a rather strange moment I considered the ethics of keeping for myself a pair of perfectly good panties that had been left behind by my guest over the course of her stay. It was silly, I knew, and quickly enough, I told myself that, more than likely, this keepsake had been left in the room completely intentionally on the part of Mrs. Jones, for me, and/or my husband, to remember her by- as though either of us would have had any trouble in the least in remembering her after the stay they'd had.
Suffice it to say, they had been two of our more exciting, adventurous customers to date...
With a strange tenderness, I pulled the panties up to my breast, pushing them up against my beating heart, briefly closing my eyes. I felt like I was swooning or something, developing a most foolish girl crush, though of course, it was entirely possible that I was more in love with my situation, my circumstances, my perfect life and the happiness it filled me with on a routine basis, than anything else.
I remained like this for a few dumb moments, just letting myself bask in my own contentment and in the light rays drifting in through the curtained bedroom window, until at last I faded slowly back to my senses, aware that I had more tasks to complete, and I continued on with my day accordingly.
I stepped over to the room's large wooden dresser and opened up a tiny little drawer in the top shelf. I stashed the black panties here for now, until I would get a chance to take them back downstairs and add them to my own private collection, my “snatch stash” as I sometimes jokingly liked to call it (more of our female guests tended to leave their panties behind after the fact than you might even begin to imagine,) then I once again slid the drawer shut.
I stooped a few inches lower, reaching for the far larger drawers down below, sliding them open, and taking out a fresh set of sheets, all nice and crisp and clean. These, too, I inhaled, the contrast of cleanliness with clear and unmistakable human substance refreshing, if neither preferable nor less no, and I moved over to the bed to go and slide them into place.
The mattress, I noted, was inundated with sweat as well, having soaked through the covers on this occasion, and I tweaked my mouth to the side, trying to decide what to do. I didn't really have the resources to clean it just now, I thought, and so I chose to take a passable enough shortcut. I sat the new bedclothes down atop the dresser, and then moved back to the bed. I grunted with the force of effort as I heaved the mattress into the air, flipping it over on top of the box spring, so that the fresh, clean side now angled up and the stains of the previous night and morning's events remained carefully concealed from sight.
“That'll work,” I muttered to myself, and I began to spread the sheets out across the surface, carefully tucking in the corners of the fitted sheet and installing the fresh new covers with the expertise of a five-star hotel staff, until finally the room looked as fresh and as good as new.
I stepped back toward the door, taking a last look around to ensure that everything was in as good a shape as it appeared to be. A few shots of air freshener in here, and maybe a quick dusting and the room would be pristine, ready for new inhabitants and ready for more of the incredible mischief that had taken place within its walls.
I would come back up and get the panties later, when I remembered them, I decided...
I closed the door to the room, and kicked the old sheets out of the way just a bit as I made my way the remainder of the distance across the narrow hallway.
I stepped into the bathroom
with my husband. He'd taken his shirt off, and had stripped down to his boxer shorts, just the way I liked him. I stood in the doorway, watching him for a moment like a hawk, feeling even more satisfied in doing so than I had in sniffing the panties back there in the room.
God, I was a lucky woman, no matter how you chose to look at it...
He had switched to brushing his teeth after having apparently, and he scarcely looked upon my entry into the bathroom. This gave me ample opportunity to study him in his vulnerability, his near nakedness.
He had an immaculate body- he worked out routinely, and it very much showed in his features. His strong arms, his sculpted chess, his tight ass...
Jesus, I was growing lightheaded, not to mention getting myself wet all over again with arousal...
It didn't help matters all that much that I could see his cock, plain as day, curling up beneath the fabric of his boxer shorts, his penis and scrotum resting just on the ledge of the sink as he brushed his teeth up against it so that with every pumping of his arm to move the toothbrush back and forth, the surface of the countertop must be grinding up against him, very subtly masturbating him while he cleaned up.
And I was beginning to feel very, very dirty again...
I controlled myself, behaved like a good girl for the time being, at any rate, and did as I said I was going to do to begin with, chugging down a huge quantity of mouthwash, and let it burn away the taste of strange flesh and fluid as I jostled it around between my inflated cheeks.
Game of Throbs Complete Series (Books 1-3) Page 55