Having endured the quick control Connie had shown, and how easily she finger-fucked his ass (and that she took that action to be the one thing she wanted from him) and that Susie here was strutting across her cold basement naked, having passed Connie with a wink and smile, and was on her knees lapping at his balls, assuring him he’d soon be on his back for her to mount him, was mind boggling to be sure. And adding in the fact that Kyle kept remembering, with a whiplash-like recognition, that these two women were nearly 70, he was damn sure that this night would go down in his memory as the kinkiest he’d ever experienced.
“Do I have to get your attention some other way?” Kyle heard below him and watched as Susie stood with a slightly dejected look her in little eyes.
He must have been drifting in his ruminations of how he got here―though his cock was pounding at that point―and the lady must have noticed something in his eyes that indicated he might have been drifting off. Facing him, her long face set, yet a wide smile across her pale features, Susie stepped up close and with a sweet berry smell on her breath whispered very close to his chin: “I know a young man might not be as interested in an older woman…”
“Are you kidding? I am so turned on right now I can barely stand,” Kyle said, and wiggled his hips so his cock brushed the lady’s upper thigh.
“Hmmm, I wonder, I wonder,” Susie said, and stepped behind him.
Though Kyle was no longer tied, his hands to his side, he figured it best to stand where he was.
“Must I discipline you dear?”
Kyle suddenly remembered that it was Susie here who had earlier swatted his cock when he tried to French kiss her.
“Please do not make me get into this…” the lady behind Kyle said and SMACK, she hit his right ass cheek dead center with a flick of the back of her right hand.
“Oh ah,” Kyle said, moving up on tip toes.
His cock instantly sprang even further outward.
“Oh Kyle, we simply can’t get into this, can we?”
SMAT, SMAT. Susie landed two more smacks, one left then right, with an open front palm and Kyle jumped forward.
“Look at you,” she squealed rubbing up close to his side to look down with Kyle at his now popping hard-on.
“Look.”
SMACK.
“At.”
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK she hit cheek-to-cheek.
“That!”
The woman growled then: SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
Susie let loose a flurry of six smacks, cheek-to-cheek as Kyle moaned and rolled on his toes; the woman behind him stomped her heels to the cold tile floor and rubbed her scratching hot crotch against his thigh.
“Get on the floor…get on the floor.”
Kyle did as asked, the cold of the tiles as much feeling good on the back of his thighs, his heated butt cheeks and his back and arms as it was annoying. He spread his legs ever so slightly as Susie walked a foot to either side of his thick thighs and slid her high heels to his hips.
“I had thought…” the lady began as she ever so slowly began to squat; Kyle stayed transfixed on those swinging big boobs coming ever more into view. “…I might need some lube, but spanking you, oh…my…good…God!”
Kyle cupped his hands on either side of his ball sack and held his erection hard, true and aimed straight up for what he certainly could see was a glistening red pussy coming down on him. Susie had an enormous clit, bulbous and engorged as it was, spreading her outer lips at the top so it seemed the woman was about to envelope his cock completely. Just as he felt her heat on the very head of his dick, as he watched the woman’s inner thighs strain (and kudos to a woman of any age, let alone 67, who could squat as slow as this!) he pushed his ass up off the floor and Susie fit his cock into her pussy. Her full weight, the heels ‘squirting’ across the tile, the couple basically falling back down to the floor with a “flump”, impaled Kyle’s hard seven inches up Susie who let loose a low mewling.
As verbose as she seemed she could be, as dominant and demanding (all qualities Kyle absolutely could come to adore in an older women who wanted to use him from time to time) Susie rode and writhed on the rock hard cock below her very slowly and with nary a sound. Holding her hips, nearly hypnotized by Susie’s little red nipples and breasts seemingly close enough he could lick, Kyle simply held himself as rigid as he could and let the older woman grind him with her warmth and surprising tightness―Kyle had no idea why he had imagined Susie would not have a tight pussy―and reveled in the fact that this woman was using his big hard cock completely for her purposes.
Susie arched back and came.
Tea being prepared as he dried himself from the super hot shower in Susie’s guestroom’s bathroom, Kyle realized he might then be more nervous than he had been the past hour, or any other time meeting his two older female “friends.” Sitting down and drinking tea, of all things, with the pair seemed just this side of cliché but Kyle welcomed the seemingly civilized respite; Connie’s massage and then Susie climbing off his thrumming erection, scooting down between his thighs and taking his spunky glistening dick in her mouth to suck him until he came anew had left Kyle drained.
What they would all talk about, if there could be considerations of their wild time just spent or strategy for another rendezvous, Connie had no idea and as much felt the same questioning gaze from Susie, even though it had been Susie who had offered their young stud her shower and tea. But when the pair heard the shower shut off, both women found themselves tittering around the kitchen, feeling nearly a half century younger because of the project they had all just finished.
TURNING THE TABLES ON WHO GIVES AND WHO GETS
“Ca…Claire…” Samantha sighed as I brushed my now aching breasts and hard nipples against her back.
Sure my peach and pink kitchen was tight, but not so tight I had to wiggle so obviously while passing the pretty girl to get the block of cheese, knife and cutting board. But as Samantha hadn’t eased herself away, in fact as she bit her lip with an intake of quick breath and her little ass all but circled against my crotch when I touched her, I knew my opening salvo had landed.
Hell, this was a long time in coming for the tall beauty and I. In the three years we had known one another, building our friendship in the wine-and-sushi clutch of Anita, sometimes Sherri and twin sisters Britt and Cammy, Samantha and I had grown thicker then thieves, more so even than Anita and I, who I shared a seven-year friendship with and with whom I had started our little girl’s group of bi-monthly dinners. It’s a small northern California town we all live in so for Anita and I it was never a question of “Could we get a fun group of ‘girls’ of all ages together for monthly meet-ups?” as much as: “Who should we invite to those meet-ups?” To a woman I loved each and every lady I had gotten to know in the group, but had been extra excited to meet, court and was just then hoping to seduce, Samantha.
At 45 I was the eldest woman in the clutch (Anita is 33). Single like Cammy, but unlike her “heteroflexible”―the modern made-up term for what I considered bisexual “light” back in the day―I had pretty much played hard for both sides in my dating life back before my marriage, through to the women my ex Jerry used to prod me to take to our bed and the dalliances I had managed in the three years since my divorce…though I found myself not dalliance-ing all that often lately. Beyond a handful of dates that didn’t amount to much my sexual openness had brought me mostly net searches of the one-handed tickle variety at best; Facebook was too riddled with kids and too many of my relatives to go there and Tinder wasn’t for a woman of my “seasoning.” I liked dating and had been hoping to muster the energy I had had in the heady days of my twenties to date both genders again with vigor, but so far my pickings had been few, either because of the small population of single men and women in my quiet little burb, or because quite frankly, until Samantha, nobody―guy or girl―had gotten my panties dewy.
The rest of my friends guessed at, or even actually realized my proclivitie
s, but nobody much cared what any of us got up to in our bedrooms and seeing as up to that point I had concluded Samantha was straight (she had a boyfriend she spoke of but I had never met) and figured what she got up to in her bedroom didn’t include bedding babes. This hadn’t kept me from throwing stares her way, imagining what it might be like to lick her pussy from behind as that magnificent ass dangled in my face, but I had never really given the long-legged short-haired brunette the full court press. But this particular night she had called from her car, claiming she wanted to stop by “just to say hi” with a bottle of red she said she had just bought and was dying to try with someone who’d appreciate it.
We had sat, sipped, giggled and gossiped for a good fifteen minutes before I got up to go to the kitchen for that light spicy cheese I knew would be perfect with what was proving to be quite a delicious red. For whatever reason Samantha had stood and followed me and as she turned to grab my new cookbook off the counter I made my move to at least quench my curiosity and give me something to masturbate over later. To say I was hoping she’d respond as positively as she did would be the understatement of the year; that she did thrilled me no end. Armed with her undulating before me, what the hell should I then do, I questioned myself?
We both stepped back to my table and sat; I was considerably wetter than seconds before, hoping the young woman who faced me was the same.
“So Jerry went back last week?” Samantha asked, looking down into her wine goblet.
She was either buying time or looking for a confirmation that we were indeed alone. Samantha knew fully well that my stepson Jerry was back at his base as of last Tuesday, I doubted she would have invited herself over otherwise. If she needed assurance that we were alone, I’d play along…but not without teasing her.
“We’re all alone sweetie, this can be as long a visit as you like.”
Once again I caught the intake of breath, Samantha’s firm what-had-to-be 36 or 38 B cups rising and falling quickly. The brushing up against her and her breathy exclamation about it had been one thing, but I really had no idea if time was on our backs presently, if she had to return to her man at a prescribed hour, even how long she could stand the now palpable heat between us. Yes, we had the house alone. Yes, I had just made an overt physical move and yes there was no way she could not know I ached to have her, still…
“It’s really nice that you stayed so close, with…well…” I reached out and Samantha let me lay my hand over hers. She was being very sweet, demure actually, massaging that one subject that all my friends tickled across from time to time. It defines them more actually than me, to hint at the particulars of Jerry’s dad and my relationship, how we defied the odds by weathering our problems and co-raising Jerry’s son from his first marriage even though we were now divorced. Samantha mentioning Jerry, asking about him (even if mostly to assure herself we were alone), made the affection rise in me for the young woman. It was a heady mix to be sure, to be ragingly so attracted to Sam’s high-cheekbone, thin-nose pretty mug, to know I had years and experience on her that would most probably see me (if I had any say about it) the dominant if something came from our flirting and to have her ask me about one of the lasting pieces from my split marriage I was still most proud of.
The sudden picture of me dominating this girl, spanking, biting her nipples, fisting her even, flashed so quick and strong across my mind’s eye I actually sat back and almost plucked my hand off of the soft hand in front of me.
“I guess we can’t ignore this any longer, huh?”
In response to the girl’s surprising admission I almost batted my eyelashes and fixed Samantha with my overly innocent baby blues and a light hand to my chest declaring “Sugar, whatever do you mean?”
“You have to have guessed by now I am about ready to eat you for dessert,” I added.
Cards on the table, face-up; the time was nigh.
“I was hoping,” Samantha said, and stood to my surprise, took a step back from my table and unzipped, unbuttoned and flipped free of her Uggs, tight faded jeans and sweater.
I’m not sure if I was more surprised, thrilled or even to be honest, slightly put off when Samantha stood fully in black low cup bra and matching high-cut panty, sporting a dildo harness with what looked like a seven inch cock wagging from it.
And to think I had just pushed the image of me packing from my mind.
How had I not noticed (though how could I ever have suspected really)? Had Samantha snuck out of the house in full view of her man with this cock strapped to her? How in hell did the sweet, lanky, demure, certainly for all I ever surmised straight, non-kinky girl come to be sporting a dildo and have assumed she could not only come here and strip and show me, but that I’d be amenable to her doing so? Yeah, she knew I liked girls and guys both, but that’s a long way to packing. How long had she been planning this? What would have happened if I hadn’t been home? How often had Samantha fucked someone with that cock, women or men?
God, the questions flowing through my fevered mind then.
I had strapped-on for lovers (yes, both guys and girls). On plenty of occasions it was a secret my ex and I loved to share when we went out to pick-up women at a bar, but I wasn’t sure I had ever seen another woman in my presence wearing a dildo…and one ten years my junior at that! Should I be flattered or fearful, I wondered, and found I was both…and flooding wet.
“You sure know how to get a girl’s attention,” I quipped, standing then and stepping to Samantha.
Tables turned as they were, being the big bad, usually older lady in my forays with women (certainly when prompted by my ex) I had always been the aggressor. I just assumed if Sam and I got to it at all, it would be me doing all the work here. Still, I was a quick study and got to my knees, pushing Samantha’s chair to the side with a squirp across my wooden floor and took her fake cock in my mouth.
She rolled forward as I reached my hands up and around her ass, kneading soft warm flesh and panty lace at the same time. I had been on the receiving end of just such attention on a handful of occasions and the abject submission of a pretty young thing on her knees before me, sucking what she knew would no doubt be up her in some fashion very soon, had been very arousing the times I was standing up over someone while sporting a cock; I could feel Samantha rocking very much as I always did when I had been in her position. But being on my knees like that, for my first time facing a fake cock, was mind reeling to me, as was the idea that suddenly I was going to be taken, submitting to a younger woman in such a precise way.
And truth be told, I wasn’t sure if she’d be taking my cunt or my ass.
And truth be told, I’d let Samantha have either.
And truth be told, I was nearly coming with the thought.
“I want to make love to you, slow, hard, facing one another, coming together,” the young girl above me whispered as I popped her dick from my mouth and stood.
“Yes,” I said and leaned my ass against my table top as Samantha came in to kiss me.
The electricity that passed from our shared breath was deeper than even Samantha stripping for me, me getting on my knees, all of it.
Such simple open mouth kissing, what I probably wanted most (at least first) of all from this young woman ever since I met her, was rocking me as I balanced back on the hard wood, we embraced deep and fed on one another…Samantha’s fake wagging cock hitting me in the upper thigh then.
“I want you right now, right here,” Sam said and she went at me, snapping open my jeans’ fly, actually ripping loose the second button on my sweater.
I lifted my head off her slightly in smiling shock as Sam nuzzled her face into my neck and whispered: “Punish me for that later.”
I was down to my bra and stepping out of my jeans in record time, trying all I could to writhe and wriggle helpfully as Sam pushed and peeled at me. I did my best to present mostly my heavy tits in my lacy demi cups and not so much of my stomach but the young woman seemed to be growing ever more voracious working h
er mouth down my neck and into my cleavage. In any of my many imagined seductions of Samantha I had always led by degrees, never actually facing the reality that if and when we ever did get down to it, there might be moments she’d see me completely naked, not covered by a slightly open shirt I could tuck and pull at, that there might just come times I wasn’t behind and under her.
Not that I am any more vain than any other lady my age, and probably less than most, still the extra twelve pounds or so I hated so much residing round my middle, made me self-conscious in the best of circumstances. Standing in bra and panties between Samantha and my table top, my jeans splayed open and hammock-ed mid thick thighs was as arousing as it was unnerving; it is one thing to lust after someone 20 years your junior, quite another to know in no small way (okay, 22 pounds actually) that they are firm and perfect and lovely in ways you used to be.
When Samantha got to her own knees, pulled my high-cut pink panties down my thighs, my pants and those panties off my legs then pushed her mouth up into my bald mound, reached her hands up and around to my fleshy ass (I accommodated by leaning up off the table for her) I suddenly forgot any worry about how I looked right then and realized―and her tongue lashing up at my gloppy thick clit certainly allayed my fears―this woman wanted me as much as I her.
There are magnesium flash moments we need to recognize when they happen. Surely Sam (and maybe after tonight I’d even start calling her ‘Sam’ in earnest, the way everyone else seemed to but I had always avoided since calling her by her full name seemed to me begged something special between us) and I were on our way to some interesting trajectory (though I was nervous about it, even more so knowing now that she wanted the clutched intimacy of actually fucking and facing me) but where else the firm young thing and I would go, I had no idea. I used to court enough conceit way back in the day to think I could turn a bi or even just experimenting girl away from cock, but twenty years on from that hubris I was more realistic now…and in a way more thankful for what was presented me.
Oh, Those Darn Dominant MILFs- the Goddesses of Suburbia Page 2