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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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What's In A Dry Old Fuck
by The Tall Man (tallman034@aol.com)
***
A not-so-young businessman meets a pretty young sales
executive and they strike a deal together. But she
doesn't know he has a medical problem... (MF, mast,
oral, rom)
***
Author Note: This is a tale about a 'less than young'
businessman, who meets a fascinating young woman more
than thirty years younger than him. They do a business
deal together. Take your time reading it, and whether
you enjoy it or not, take a little extra time to drop
me a line and tell me what you think. I appreciate
intelligent comments of all kinds.
***
Chapter One
Len's Bar, early days... a self-made man... Jenny...
the gangbang!
Len's Bar on a Friday evening after a hard week was the
place to go in those days. Everybody and his secretary
and his brother and his mistress (or his would-be
mistress) were there. At the end of the working week,
it was the popular den of iniquity to go to unwind,
relax, flirt, pick up people for unsavoury purposes.
Most hedonist's kind of scenario.
A chance meeting with Jenny, one of the secretaries at
the firm where I used to work, and the vague
possibility of sinking my dick into her voluptuous
lower body, persuaded me to go to Len's Bar for the
first time.
Lunch break, a summer day, walking along the city
centre street back towards my new office clutching my
pretentious 12 inch jambon and salade baguette, there
she was, teetering along on the other side of the
street. I saw her breasts first, that's the way I
always see women, close up or at a distance. Jenny's
breasts were spectacular, almost bursting through the
buttons of her crisp white secretary's blouse. Her too-
skinny legs below her too-tight black skirt wobbled on
her too-high heels, and right at that moment, in my
period of sexual drought she looked like the sexiest
dollybird in the entire universe.
Twice married, twice divorced, sexually insatiable
according to purportedly reliable office legend, and
approximately half my age. Jenny spotted me and crossed
over unsteadily to my side of the street, smiling
broadly. I remarked for the first time that she was
sort of pretty as well as desirable in her discreetly
tarty way. Her almost deafening body language made it
clear she was pleased to see me.
"Well hello handsome" she grinned up at me, "Long time
no whatsit. That's a big one Ken" she breathed,
grinning down at my 12 inch baguette then up into my
face.
I smiled my own pleasure back, glancing at her bulging
chest again as she came closer, then trying to fix on
her eyes. I smelt tobacco, suppressed my dislike.
"I hear you've become a self-made man." Jenny was not
known for her high cerebral capacity, which everybody
at work knew didn't measure up to her very impressive
mammarial dimensions.
Just a couple of months earlier, in a moment of not so
well thought out folly, and at the ripe old age of 50,
divorced and resting between girl friends, I'd set up
my own very small business in financial counselling,
and it looked like it was going to work out alright.
Well, self-employed, yes, but 'self-made' was still a
long way from the truth. I was nevertheless hopeful,
and agreed with her interpretation of the news she'd
heard.
Mesmerised by her fluttering eye lashes, her wobbling
tits tugging at my eyes and having a certain effect on
my dick, I listened to Jenny's update of office news,
which of course, was of absolutely no interest to me
whatsoever any longer. I gave my own body signals to
move on and tackle my baguette, but I guess she was
mono-lingual; she missed the signals completely,
stopped me a couple of times, squeezed my arm softly.
I noted long, blood-red finger nails. Dropping my
baguette lower to cover a potentially rising tent in
the front of my trousers, I listened somewhat
distractedly as she said: "You ought to come down to
Len's Bar one Friday evening straight after work. It's
a really great atmosphere, and we always have a lot of
fun."
I knew the place, which was just a few hundred yards
from my office, but I hadn't been inside. It looked
kind of seedy; not that it mattered to me if it was the
seediest joint in the whole city, but in any case, when
you work for yourself, you just have to make some
sacrifices. Work sometimes comes first.
"You'd love it. Lots of people you know go there after
work. Mike's a regular. We have a few drinks, a few
laughs. Sometimes we do the gang bang."
I began to pay closer attention, raised my eyebrows,
squeezed my baguette, then stopped in case the butter
or the sliced tomatoes squirted out of the sandwich and
into the paper bag. I tilted my head in curious
fashion, moved an inch or two closer to those wondrous
breasts. I'd long ago given up trying to guess bra
sizes, so let's just say Jenny's were huge and kind of
mesmeric.
"Gang bang" I repeated.
"Yes, it's a kind of dance, we all get in a line and
dance, like having a gangbang."
"Ah" I muttered. "Well, maybe I'll drop by one of these
Fridays, when I'm not working late. Being a self-made
man places demands on your time, you know" I mocked,
but with my winning smile. "But have to go now, Jenny.
I need to gulp this down and tidy myself up before my
two o'clock appointment."
"It's a big one too!" said Jenny, squeezing my arm
again much harder and winking before she let me go,
then: "Bye Ken, see you on Friday."
I watched her cross-wobble back over to her side of the
street and continue her trajectory, noted she had a
small but very cute and firm bum, like two tennis balls
battling inside a handkerchief. Her legs were too
skinny, sure, but what the hell, the effect was already
noticeable. It would be a few minutes before my
stretched underpants deflated and my cock settled down
to position number one in my trousers.
I mulled it over for about 30 seconds what Jenny had
said, then set aside all ideas of Len's Bar and its
gang bang dance whatever that might be. My immediate
preoccupation was my forthcoming appointment and making
money from it.
Two weeks later, in a quiet moment at the end of the
week, remembering the alarming reaction in my trousers
to Jenny's close and insistent presence, and having had
absolutely no sexual sustenance for some considerable
time, my resistance weakened, and I stuck my nose into
Len's Bar.
A hot summer evening, I left my jacket and tie in the
car and descended the steps into what seemed like a
noisy black hole, cut my way through the 'heat, the
smoke and haze', to the bar. It was already past seven
o'clock and the place was heaving with business people.
While I was there waiting for someone working behind
the bar to discover I wasn't invisible so I could order
a beer, I noticed Jenny on the other side leaning
against a wall with her tongue stuck down some pin-
stripe throat – or was it someone with his tongue down
Jenny's throat? Both, probably.
No matter, it seemed to go on forever. What seemed like
an hour or two later, I got my beer, turned round, and
there they were, still with their mouths glued
together. Discreetly, I moved a little out of range,
saw Michael, one of my former close colleagues at the
old firm. Twice married and still captive in the
second, Mike was one of the best of a very bad bunch of
bankers and shysters, and a well known womaniser, like
me. Only better looking, I have to admit, and younger.
Mike saw me, came directly over and we shook hands; he
always had a warm, soft handshake, like a wet
dishcloth, summer or winter. He smiled and we expressed
our appropriate mutual pleasure, genuine or not. Mike
was none too tall, barrel-chested and always wore
immaculate business suits. Women found him very
attractive.
True, he was good looking, with blue eyes and long
eyelashes that the girls said they would die for, but
he had a weight problem, and had to work very hard to
maintain an exercise régime so he could keep fit enough
for winter skiing, and for his first and foremost sport
– chasing skirt.
"I was hoping you'd come down one of these days, Ken,"
he said. "Jenny told me she'd bumped into you. How's
the new business coming along?"
He allowed me a few minutes while I gave him an
inflated account of my modest success, then changed the
subject to anything and everything but business. Mainly
women, for that's why he was in Len's Bar usually. Or
any other bar, come to that. We had made a ton of
business journeys during our ten years working
together, and had always managed to track down the
right female company, whatever city we found ourselves
in. Usually it was Mike who had done the hunting, and
the game was shared out accordingly.
"Have you seen Jenny over there?"
I nodded, then turned around to have another quick look
at the amorous couple, discreetly fondling each others
buttocks whilst clinking glasses at chest level. The
pin-stripe moved his beer sideways, so that the back of
his hand was brushing Jenny's left tit.
"Apparently, she's insatiable. But selective, it seems.
I've tried to get her into my car a few times after
closing, but no go. Look at her with that yuppy over
there, she was eating him alive a few minutes ago."
"I saw," I replied.
We talked on for a while, raising our voices above
those of all the inebriated people around us, then I
remembered the gang bang.
"What's all this gang bang stuff," I asked.
"Oh, the gangbang. It's just a bit of fun. You get to
stick your dick up against some woman's arse, and
behind you there's another woman doing the same to you
– without the dick, of course." He laughed out loud, a
bit too loud, it seemed to me, continuing: "If you feel
a dick against your arse, then it's time to change
places with someone, quick! Oh, and we do it to music.
A great ice breaker, known to produce remarkable
results amongst the still sexually active."
Mike carried on laughing for a while, the volume of
which attracted Jenny's attention over against the
wall. She tore her hands off her beau's bum and his
hands off hers and staggered over to us, grinning
broadly. I just knew she was glad to see me there. Her
protuberances were as magnificent as ever under her now
less-than-crisp, clinging office secretary's blouse. I
noticed a small beer stain on the place where I
calculated her left nipple would be.
"Kennneee baybeeee!" she drooled, "Soooo glad you came
at last, as the arts mistress said to the gardener. How
are you? What are you naughty boys talking about?"
Her arms were instantly around my waist and I felt one
of those wonderful, solid globes against my ribs. My
cock began to fill up for the first time in a long time
and I smiled my pleasure, ignored the smell of
cigarettes, dipped my head and kissed her cheek. I
think she got the message, as she twisted slightly and
pressed closer, almost flattening both her tits against
my chest. Poor Mike was left looking at the back of her
head while Jenny peered up at my face, smiling in a
sort of half drunken, half seductive way. I smiled my
winning smile back. I smelled tobacco again.
"I think I've had a little too much this evening
already. I need to calm down a bit. It's early yet, and
I don't want to lose control of what I'm doing." I
remarked to myself: she was already out of control by
normal standards, but I wasn't going to tell her. Her
smile and the tone of her voice and the feel of her
breasts against my chest were turning my knees to jelly
and my cock to iron. She turned to Mike:
"Are we doing the gang bang tonight, Mikey?"
"I hope so," Mike replied. "C'est obligatoire," he
added, putting on his oh-so-familiar pseudo-French
accent, clearly to impress Jenny, or the barmaid, or
both. But it went over Jenny's head, and she turned
back to me and continued pressing her now rigid nipples
against my chest, this time with her hot thigh against
the outside of mine, rubbing lightly. I was harder than
I'd been since the night before I opened the doors of
my new office for the first time, and reminded myself
that two and a half months without a fuck was way too
long. Jenny couldn't fail to feel the inflexibility of
my dick against her belly.
Mike turned away, leaned over the bar and said
something to the French-Algerian barmaid. In French, I
wagered. She disappeared behind the scenes, and a
minute later the music started.
The whole bar exploded with cheers, arms in the air and
whoops of "Gangbang!"
Male and female bodies moved quickly, and it seemed,
purposefully in all directions, and began to form a
line the whole length of the bar, several lines when
they ran out of space. I turned round to the counter to
order another beer, but Jenny grabbed my hand and
squeezed it; just what I needed at that instant, a hot
sweaty hand in mine.
She tugged hard, and I found myself slipping into small
pattering steps behind her, trying not to stamp on her
high heels, towards the centre of the bar floor. In the
semi-darkness I sneaked a look at her ass. Lovely, I
thought. My swollen cock was twitching freely, and I
didn't care now if my trousers were tented. I was
enjoying the feeling, and reminded myself not to let
business get in the way of sex quite so often in
future.
I tried to concentrate on what the others were doing,
the formation seemed important. Jenny pressed back and
thrust her bum against my enlarged groin, turned her
head and whispered, "Stay behind me, okay? Don't change
places, whatever you do."
I promised, allowed myself to be pulled into her
buttocks, and grabbed onto her waist as she joined a
line of man-woman-man-woman, cock to bum, pubes to bum
and so on. Jenny pressed her buttocks back hard against
my cock, which was now unmistakeably and unrelentingly
rigid against her bum cheeks.
At the very same moment, I felt something hard press
itself against my bum, turned round rapidly,
remembering what Mike had said. It was a grinning
woman, not pretty, but I was relieved it was a sizeable
pubic bone I had there in my ass, and not a dick. I
then noticed Mike grinning and grinding, positioned
several persons behind my new bum-hugger and clinging
onto a female waist.
The music was almost unbearable, the lyrics almost
unintelligible. I heard vaguely:
We're having a gang bang, we're having a ball
We're having a gang bang, against the wall
Then I forgot about all about trying to hear or
interpret the lyrics, as I gave myself up to the
sensation of having my turgid and throbbing cock thrust
against Jenny's extremely accommodating ass and rubbing
it freely in the crack of her skirt-covered bum cheeks,
as she pressed them back enthusiastically against me.
Being an adept at this weekly gang bang, Jenny got
quickly into the rhythm, moved her ass forward and
back, then from side to side, obliging me to move my
cock sideways in time with her or lose the haven of her
crack.
Each and everybody in the gang bang line moved his and
her lower body backwards and forwards in a fake fucking
action to the rhythm of the so-called music, and I
remarked that, if this went on for long, there would
soon be a number of inebriated men on the verge of
creaming their trousers this evening. But I didn't care
about the others; I just hung in there and enjoyed the
sensations of Jenny's silky bum crack pleasuring my
delighted and, up to now, much-neglected cock.
Everybody was having a thoroughly debauched time it
seemed.
A gang bang is a game we play
It's something of joke
It's lots of hokey-pokey
Less hokes and lots of pokes
I couldn't believe the appalling lyrics. As this
outrageous dance progressed, I dared move my hands
further around Jenny's waist, until they lay just under
her breasts and I could feel their amazing softness and
heaviness against the tops of my hands. Jenny, moving
her hips back and forth a little harder against my
crotch, and without letting go entirely of her other
partner in sex-crime in front, slipped her hand onto
one of mine, moved it up and discreetly placed it fully
on her tit.
My cock twitched and throbbed, and I wanted to
ejaculate there and then. Or better still, slip it
under Jenny's inadequate skirt and plunge it quickly
and indelicately into her softness first. Finally, to
save me from an embarrassing wet patch in my undies and
trousers, the music died down, to yet more whoops of
joy from the regulars, and the lines began to slowly
disintegrate.
The hubbub continued for a few minutes, then returned
to a rather less blatantly uncivilised level again, as
everybody found his or her former place in the bar.
Jenny, without turning towards me, kept her ass glued
to my crotch, her hands now back around onto my bum,
pulling me close, to lead me back to the bar and rejoin
Mike. Only then did she spin around and press those
welcome inflated cushions against my chest again. My
long vertical boner was now against her belly and
pulsing uncontrollably.
I knew I was going to break my sexual drought that
evening. I didn't know whether it was the pin-stripe
guy or the gang bang with me that had worked her up.
But I was the chosen one – not the one Jenny had been
eating voraciously earlier, and whom I hadn't seen
since. I was more than ready to accept the gift to be
bestowed upon me; it had been a very long drought
indeed.
A couple of beers later, I was on the way to my second-
hand Peugeot 305 with Jenny clinging onto me. I didn't
know if it was to stop herself falling over or because
she wanted to pull down my trousers, but she had one
hand deep inside my waistband and was squeezing my bum,
scratching the flesh teasingly with her long red nails.
As we zigzagged, I had my hand far around her waist and
an amazingly large tit in my hand. I felt the nipple
grow hard in my palm as I fondled this wonderful globe
through her bra. It was the largest tit I had ever held
in my life, and my hand was incapable of holding it
entirely. I did my best, nevertheless, felt and enjoyed
its weight in my palm.
My cock was now begging for release, and I knew this
was going to be a very short interlude. No time to
reach my office, it would have to be in my car. In the
merest hint of time, we were parked in a very dark
side-street of the city. I was sitting on the passenger
seat, my trousers and boxers were down to my ankles and
my rigid organ was pointing to the sky, Jenny was soon
astride my thighs with her panty and tights in a pile
on the car floor, her blouse open, her bra lifted up
and her bare tits almost but not quite covered by my
desperate hands.
Lifting herself into position with one hand on the seat
behind my shoulder, she gripped my swollen rod with the
other, squeezed and jerked it a few times and
wordlessly begged me to plant it inside her. No-one
mentioned a contraceptive, and I briefly thought of the
possible consequences as well as Jenny's and my own
reputation, before giving in to the urge to fuck her
brains out.
With quite unnecessary encouragement and help from
Jenny, I found the right place and slipped my
desperately excited rod between her furry cunt lips
hard and fast, no thought of finesse; this was an
extreme emergency situation, after two and a half
months without feeling the moist heat of an experienced
cunt around my prick.
Jenny's pussy was very hot and very wet; she was as
ready as I was, and immediately started humping herself
up and down, groaning into my ear as I groped her jugs
and sucked on her nipples alternately, then buried my
face in between both tits and pushed them together as
though trying to suffocate myself. What a way to die,
the thought crossed my mind, as my climax rapidly built
up and Jenny's voice and her tongue thrusting into my
ear drove me onwards. All she said was: "Come on! Come
on! Come on!"
I don't remember kissing her mouth. I hate the smell
and taste of tobacco. But the word lust is totally
inadequate to describe what was going on just at that
moment, as a drink-induced, long stored-up seminal
eruption prepared itself. Jenny was coming before me,
and I knew it, as I struggled to hold back my
ejaculation for just a little longer. A few seconds,
that's all it needed as Jenny began to buck and shudder
on my solid, aching dick. She screamed in my ear as she
sat down hard on my cock and arrived at a half-drunken,
loud, uninhibited orgasm.
Gasping for air from between her breasts, I heard the
word 'fuck' several times very loudly in my ear as her
trembling went on and I lifted my ass off the car seat,
thrust hard and finally squirted my hot sperm inside
her cunt in what seemed like endless, thick, powerful
jets. The drought was soon over; at the end of several
violent and self-congratulatory spasms, my balls were
empty again. At last.
Our breathing slowed. We stopped moving. I inhaled the
sickly sweet scent between her tits, my hands still
cupping them, my mouth kissing the valley between them,
making the most of the post-coital climb-down. Jenny
pressed her face against my neck and stayed sitting on
my dick as it began to shrink to almost nothing inside
her sopping pussy. Then she gave it a cunt-muscle
squeeze, milking me of the last couple of drops. Oh how
I love that last spasm!
Still we didn't move, and I felt what seemed like pints
of warm seminal fluid running down onto my balls and
probably wetting the car seat. Jenny must have felt the
same; she lifted her bum up slightly to allow my now
pathetically small dick to slip unaided from its
paradisiacal prison, leaned back on my thighs. It felt
good to have the soft, sweaty flesh of her ass on my
thighs. She looked down briefly at my cock, then up at
my face, but I had the feeling she wasn't seeing me.
Then, looking around left and right, as though a little
lost, she finally sighed, spoke breathlessly, almost
impatiently, "Do you have any tissues in this car,
Kenny?"
I reached into the glove box behind her back, found a
packet of kleenex and handed it to her. She wiped
herself down there intently, looking sideways at me in
a kind of embarrassed way from time to time; then she
dropped the filthy, sopping kleenex onto my bare lap
and awkwardly struggled over to the driver's seat,
banging her leg on the gearstick on the way. I heard
the word 'fuck' again.
There followed an interlude whilst I attended to my own
personal mopping up operations, the rustle of clothes
being re-arranged before anyone spoke. "That was great,
Jenny. You're really nice." It all sounded a bit hollow
and false after the total and uncontrollable lust which
had just manifested itself, so I shut up.
"Yes, same here, Ken," was all she replied, but I
didn't hear anything that sounded like sincerity in her
voice. Then she shut up too. I still hadn't kissed her.
Suddenly that stale tobacco smell seemed more repulsive
than before. Post-coital disgust had now set in.
Twenty minutes later, I dropped Jenny in front of her
apartment. I never knew what she really thought, but we
never fucked again, and I saw her less and less at
Len's Bar. Later, Mike told me she had met a guy whom
everybody called 'Clark Kent', allegedly because of the
size of his dick. She finally stopped coming to Len's
on Friday evenings, and as far as I know, on any other
evening. I hope she got what she was looking for. I was
condemned to keep looking.
Chapter Two
Ten years later... Mary... Helen... pissing trouble!
So that's where I was when I first saw Mary, ten years
later. I was still going to Len's Bar occasionally on a
Friday evening after work, though less often. The
novelty of years gone by had more or less worn off, and
I didn't show up so often because of work pressures.
But I put in an appearance when it suited me, mostly to
keep in close contact with one or two clients who
frequented the same den of iniquity, and with some of
my useful pals in the financial institutions.
Things had changed a bit in the intervening years. Len
had left his wife for the French Algerian bar girl.
Len's wife, after sleeping with an inestimable number
of bar customers, male and female, had finally gone to
live with one of them, a young stud ten years younger
than her, poor sod. And the bar had been sold to a rich
Greek called Tony Vassilikos. He kept the name 'Len's
Bar' and took over where Len left off, banging bar
girls and customers at every opportunity. But he was a
single man, and had no complications to think about of
the kind Len had.
Some other minor things had changed, but not much, and
it was still a place to go, sort of. Michael still was
the major predator in the bar. He was older, weren't we
all, and less successful in the seduction stakes, but
it didn't stop him from trying. Once a lech, always a
lech. Everybody and his brother, his secretary and his
mistress were still regulars there; and now, with their
mobile phones and electronic organisers too. Nobody
asked to do the gang bang anymore.
For me, quite a lot had changed in those ten
intervening years. My business was flying, I had a
bigger office and staff around me, my old second hand
Peugeot 305 had become a sleek Mercedes Benz 230, new.
I had money. I had Helen in my life. And I had a
prostate problem.
Helen didn't like Len's Bar. It was not her style; she
had nothing in common with its clientele, and after a
first and only unhappy venture into the bar with me one
Friday, Helen subsequently did no more than wait for my
phone call, to meet me outside the bar door sometimes
and take me home after a drinking session. The drink-
drive laws had been changed too, had begun to frighten
us all.
Helen was ten years younger than me and very classy,
but not what you'd call highly sexually evolved. Never
married, no kids, but in many ways she was quite the
ideal public partner for a moderately successful
businessman like me: good to look at, intelligent, tall
and attractive, always impeccably dressed, and with a
body most men would sell their souls for, young or old.
But what Helen made up for in class she lacked in sense
of adventure in bed. This moderately successful but
highly sexed businessman was missing out, so to speak,
felt sometimes as though he was in danger of passing
alongside the ultimate experience, and very
occasionally was known to step off the straight and
narrow.
The prostate gave me a problem for pissing, not for
having sex. But it needed fixing.
One Friday in summer, I noticed Mary for the first time
at Len's Bar. I saw her arrive with another girl, and
the twosome made an odd, ambiguous couple. Mary was
quite small and what I might have called in those days
'dumpy'. She was very pretty with it, though, and very
well rounded; her fullest of full breasts and ass were
her best features, and simply begged for attention,
visual and actual.
But it was when I saw her up close for the first time
that I became aware of her pretty grey eyes and soft
pale skin. She was much better looking than I first
thought. Towering above her as we stood side by side at
the bar counter, I was able to see a stunning cleavage
bursting at her lightweight black dress.
My masculine interest rose, but reflecting quickly on
her age, I decided hers was probably way less than half
mine, and therefore this most delightful package was,
in all probability, a no-go for me. There comes a time
in every man's life when he has to face facts. But Mike
and I both had the same problem: we didn't know quite
when that fact-facing, life-changing moment would
arrive.
Mary's friend was a tall and skinny, scrawny short
haired girl of no sexual interest, who never smiled and
didn't say much. She seemed at odds with the world.
Curious, I asked Mike about Mary. He didn't know much
at all; he'd heard her talking to a group of people a
few weeks earlier, said she was an American who had
recently come to work in the city, in finance, like us,
but he didn't know exactly where. Oh, and she was a
lesbian. "That's her regular girlfriend over there, the
sad, ugly one lurking behind. You're wasting your time
there, Ken. Anyway, lesbian or not, she's far too young
for an old chap like you. Stick with Helen, she's a
gem." Everybody thought Helen was a gem.
I nodded my agreement, but as the evening wore on, I
couldn't help looking Mary's way, taking in her body,
her pretty eyes and her sure way of carrying herself.
Our eyes met just once, and she gave me what I took to
be a peek-a-boo, vacant smile, before looking away
again. I knew she'd noticed me, though.
There was a certain confidence in her manner, and I
noticed that whenever she was talking to men, they
seemed captivated by her eyes, entirely focused on what
she was saying. Her lurking, goulish friend showed her
obvious dislike of all this male attention Mary was
getting, but, if it was common knowledge that Mary was
a lesbian, then it didn't seem to be putting the men
off, I thought.
Once, I managed to manoeuvre myself into an
eavesdropping position in the bar, but the conversation
told me no more about her; there was a hint of trans-
Atlantic accent, and no give-away detail about where
she worked.
Then someone told me that Helen was waiting for me at
the door. I emptied my beer glass and left. I forgot
about Mary. Almost.
Chapter Three
Fuck George... a minor operation... male childbirth!
"Fuck George," I thought. "Fuck him to death and
beyond. If he's still alive, which I doubt."
I was coming round after the operation on my prostate.
Eyes half open, I realised I was speaking out loud. All
I could think of was old George and what he had said
forty years before – words that had troubled me
subconsciously ever since, off and on. Mostly off, but
now, here in my hospital bed, I wondered whether
George's predictions might finally be about to come
true.
It was like this: "You're always talking and thinking
about sex at your age" he had said one day to us young
studs, as we played cards in the men's cloakroom and
talked endlessly about IT. "But one day, you'll wake
up, and you won't want it anymore."
You might have thought the laughter would bring the
whole three storey city centre building down. Waking up
and not wanting sex was unthinkable to young men of our
age and with what we imagined was our indestructible
virility. George, the sixty-odd year old post delivery
aid insisted: "You won't believe it now, of course. But
when you get to my age, it'll just go away quietly,
it'll fade away, and one morning you'll wake up, and
you won't want it any more."
More loud laughter. "It happened to me. I know what
it's like. And it won't matter when it happens to you;
you won't think about it, you won't even worry about it
any more, because you won't get the same urges. See
what I mean? You won't worry, because you won't want
it. You'll see."
George the impossibly inarticulate left the room to get
on with his post and when the raucous mirth and
whooping had died down, the last word on the subject
was mine: "I'll tell you this much: to wake up without
a hard-on is a joke. The very day I wake up and don't
want it any more, I think I'll probably top myself." In
those days, we were always thinking that tomorrow would
be better. We survived youth and much more, before we
even imagined the reverse could be true.
I realise that after anaesthetic, people can be
inclined to say daft things. But now, lying here in my
hospital bed, feeling groggy and sore, and with a most
unpleasant kind of aching along what seemed like the
whole length of my penis and all the way up into my
belly, all I could do was talk quietly and absurdly
about George and his damned ancient prophesy. And
wonder if suicide time would soon be here.
The surgeon had, of course, warned me about some
possible ensuing effects of this fairly new laser
intervention, before persuading me to let him to zap
merrily away an 'uncertain percentage' of my prostate.
The good news: an operation which was allegedly almost
pain-free, not a single drop of blood, only one night
in hospital afterwards, a quick recovery, a strong flow
of piss thereafter. The potential bad news: if you can
still get it up afterwards, you're likely to ejaculate
wholly or partially into your bladder. That may be off-
putting for some men, he explained, to my initial
consternation.
If I can still get it up! If I can still get it up!
Frankly, I won't give a damn where I ejaculate. In my
bladder, in my kidneys, out through my mouth, anywhere,
as long as I can get it up. Just allow me that, please.
I have to be able to cheat old George's predictions,
grant me at least that.
Well, here I was, staring up at the hospital ward
ceiling, having established that I was still on this
mortal coil, wondering whether I would still be able to
get it up. Not right now, but later, when I'd
recovered. A full month without sexual activity, the
surgeon had instructed. But then, what the hell, I
reflected. I still can look good in a business suit.
What will anybody know about stuff going on (or not
going on) under my pants? I only have Helen to
consider. And Helen, well, she's Helen.
I looked away from the ceiling towards the window,
became aware at last that Helen was in the room, and
wondered right then about whether darling Helen would
even be interested in my getting it up again. Her
libido hadn't shown any real signs of improving in
recent months, even though her stunning body had always
managed to excite me sufficiently to be able to plunder
her carnal treasures without having to embark upon
guilty visions of imaginary partners.
Then again, there were moments when Helen sometimes
wanted it badly. She had her brief personal needs –
they just weren't precisely the same as mine, nor as
frequent.
I closed my eyes again; I didn't feel like discussing
with Helen how I felt right at that moment of my life,
and how our already sporadic sex life might or might
not evolve henceforth. Thanks to aspirin or similar,
the pain was just about supportable and I was drowsy. I
looked over at Helen, smiled as though I recognised
her, and drifted off into half-anaesthetic sleep.
The extraction of the tube that had been left inside my
dick and up into my bladder after the laser
intervention, was probably the most painful event of my
long life, and at the end I felt I really knew what
giving birth meant. Until it started, with two pretty
young nurses sitting on each side of my hospital bed, I
had no idea just how much it was going to hurt.
As the prettier of the nurses took off the sticking
plaster which had been holding the tube at the point of
entry into my cock-eye, and began to tug on the tube
(did they draw lots, I wondered?) she hardly gave me
time to take in her words: "This may be a bit painful,
but it'll be quickly over." Seeing my face contort in
agony, the other nurse, surely a childbirth specialist,
cried: "Breathe quickly, in and out, pant, pant!"
So I panted and prayed. Try to imagine, if you will,
that someone rips out both your testicles, your penis
and the major part of your guts in about fifteen
seconds flat. That's how it felt.
Then it was over; I was tubeless again, and looking at
my poor shrunken, pubic hairless dick, almost lost
between my thighs and leaking blood. It seemed very
sorry for itself and certainly very doubtful about its
future. The whole episode prompted me to reflect on the
condition of my sexagenarian body. Fuck, I thought. I
don't have a fat belly like so many other middle-aged
men; my skin's pretty tight after all.
Okay, I admitted to myself: I no longer have those
solid, rippling, sportsman's muscles of yesteryear. I
wasn't the young woman's idea of a dream lover any
more, but I was okay. Finally, I thought: what they
see's what they get. And I'll settle for what I can get
after this. That's profound philosophy, I reflected, as
I reached for a glass of water to wash down the
painkillers offered to me by one of the nurses.
Chapter Four
Back to work... Mary!
As the days went by, George's words still haunted me.
But I was back at my desk within three days, and
pissing better than ever. From that point of view, the
surgeon had been right. As for the rest, well, I had to
wait. I decided to keep out of Len's Bar for a while. I
didn't fancy discussing my problems with Mike and his
pals.
Then Mary turned up again. At my office.
When she called my secretary for an appointment, I had
no idea who she was, this Mary Barry, and she didn't
appear to know me from name either. But her company had
told her to come and see me and sell me some investment
facilities, so there she was, in front of me in my
private office. We recognised each other finally, and
quite quickly a sort of empathy began to form, once we
had talked about the Len's Bar atmosphere, although she
was, frankly, lukewarm about the place.
One of the first things I learned was that she was not
American; she explained with a kind of piqued look,
then a smile, that she was Canadian. Easy mistake to
make, she commented. More bad marks for Mike, I
thought; he should have picked out the vowells, he
being so liguistically accomplished (allegedly).
I was once again captivated by Mary's grey eyes and the
softness of her rounded face. Something was fizzing on
the surface, I felt. The more I studied her ample body,
while she was looking down at her papers and couldn't
see I was ogling at her as I was inclined to do, the
more I was stunned by its curves. Her substantial,
high-held breasts were hard to hide, forcing out the
front of her grey business suit and crisp white blouse.
This time, her cleavage was well covered by a button-up
blouse, but when the jacket of her business suit fell
open, I realised something.
Not only did those beauties swell upwards, but they
bulged sideways too, giving the impression of two
magnificent airbags held together by crisp cotton. Her
chubby but shapely legs were placed neatly together
against my desk and out of sight, but occasionally she
would cross them, and I would catch a flash of stocking
covered thigh or calf below her skirt. Chubby, but
shapely legs, I thought. My interest rose. I wondered
if those stockings went up to the crotch or not.
I realised at this precise moment that, whatever the
damned surgeon had done to me during that operation a
week or so before, whether or not I would be able to
get it up again or ejaculate again, I had not lost my
fascination in the female body. And here before my very
eyes, here in my own office, was a very fine young
specimen of female body.
I waited for a sign, a twitch down below, but it didn't
come. I was still feeling a little daily soreness from
pissing, and the idea of having once more the pleasure
of an erection before the four allotted weeks were up,
was not yet quite uppermost in my mind. I just kept
secretly hoping and waiting.
My best option right now was to concentrate on what
Mary had to say about her company's investment plans.
But this time, as well as her fascinating physical
presence, I was also impressed by her maturity and her
common sense attitude to investment. I began to enjoy
this young woman. I began to think her company had done
the right thing sending her to see me. I began to think
we could do business together. I began to think about
getting my erection back one of these days.
There was more. I've always prided myself on being able
to spot whether a female is interested in me or not. I
have an eye for it, you might say. I'm a people watcher
by nature. I've observed so-called body language for
years, even before Desmond Morris published certain
books about human animal behaviour which resulted in
worldwide scandals. In a group of mixed sexes I've
always been able to spot who fancies whom, detect the
eye contact, the body signals. I could spot extra-
marital affairs before they even started
And after an hour in Mary's company, I began to see
early signs of interest coming over from this cute
young executive, Mary Barry. It was in the eyes first,
as is usually the case, a kind of excessive sparkle to
enhance the salesperson's smile. Then it was in the
noticeable movements of the upper body, a kind of
leaning towards the prey, so to speak, a dipping of the
shoulders, the submissive female, with eyes looking up
into mine.
I had to take a short phone call during our meeting,
and I felt her eyes on me as I turned away from her for
two minutes to talk to my client discreetly. Yes, I saw
all the signs, but kept on thinking about my handicap,
wishing and hoping it was just temporary.
Quite against my normal male predatory instincts of
yesteryear, I forced myself to try and stay calm.
I'm also no dupe. It would not have been the first time
in my long business life that a female sales executive
had come over to me with the old seduction tactics, and
I'd often used them myself with female clients. As one
of my former female colleagues often said: "If I'm
going to succeed in this damned job, I know I'm going
to get my bottom felt." And that's what she set out to
do – to succeed by getting her ass felt, over and over
again.
I was also aware, since setting up my own business,
that a man's attractiveness to women is directly
proportionate to the thickness of his wallet. Add to
that the seeming status and power as a businessman,
power as an aphrodisiac, and to some women, even an
average, ageing looker like me becomes irresistible.
Even before I set up my business, I was not short of
offers from women. Since the large new brass company
plate 'K E Lawson, Independent Financial Adviser' had
been on my office door, for the last ten years you
could say: my cup runneth over.
I often recall the Branch Manageress of a city
institution who decided after only a few short meetings
and one evening together followed by late coffee at her
house, that she was already in love with me. I didn't
refuse her advances, naturally, and we were soon in her
bed together. She was a great fuck, and the whole
episode was spoiled only by finding myself banging away
with, intermittently, the noses of her two young border
collies up my ass. Finally, she sent them away and
closed the bedroom door. A week or two later, she fell
in love with someone else more romantic than me. Here
was a girl in love with the idea of being in love, I
decided.
Then there was the young blonde trainee sales
consultant, half my age who said she always preferred
older men. She had a phenomenal body, and had just
discovered how to enhance it by pumping iron. She
invited me to a business lunch, which went well enough;
the usual body language and flashing of knowing looks
between us, but I remained the perfect business
gentleman.
When I got home that evening I found a message on my
answering machine, to the effect that she found me
extremely charming, and if ever I wanted to repeat our
lunch – or maybe have dinner instead – then she would
be delighted to see me again. That was quite an
experience for about three weeks, before I suggested
she find someone her own age. A great body, a
satisfactory fuck, but young and boring.
I saw her a couple of years later at an industry
dinner; she filled her evening gown more like a trained
weight lifter than the catwalk model she had resembled
before. Her tits were now pectorals and her legs like
those of Schwarzeneger. Still pretty tasty looking in a
different way, but boring, and femininity lost.
Then there was the rich couple whose financial
investments I took care of, at first jointly, then
separately when they split up. My first business
meeting with the gay divorcée started with gin and
tonic on the terrace looking onto the magnificent
private garden of her luxury house, and ended with us
rolling around at dusk, naked and slightly drunk on the
freshly cut lawn under the sprinklers. A great fuck in
the circumstances, but my poor back was torn to shreds
and bleeding at the end - and it wasn't the grass that
did it. I lost a very profitable client that night.
I didn't pretend that any of these incidents, the ease
with which these women threw themselves in my
direction, had a great deal to do with my having some
sort of fatal fascination for women. More to do with
what I was and my potential power factor, rather than
who I was, it seemed to me.
So I stayed calm and controlled with Mary, not wanting
to take the risk that this was yet another young female
sales executive looking to get her ass or her tits -
that is, her astonishing tits, manhandled. And not
wanting to take the risk that eventually, I would not
be able to get it up for her anyway, I had to be very,
very careful. I had both my business and my personal
reputation as an ageing stud to think about.
I let her go, with a promise to consider her very
attractive proposals. But this time, I didn't forget
Mary.
Chapter Five
Helen... some sort of renaissance?
Well, those four dry, sexless weeks before I was due to
see the surgeon again threatened to drag by
interminably, but I tried hard to remain optimistic. I
had to; I was not ready to give up my previously
indestructible sexuality just yet.
Then the minor miracle occurred. On morning twenty two
(I was counting), I woke up with a solid hardon. And it
wasn't because I wanted to piss.
In the early morning, out of habit, and without
premeditation, I had rolled over onto my side towards
Helen's back and slipped my free hand under the sheets,
over and onto her belly, then up, to grasp a generous,
fifty year old breast in my palm. The miracle happened
as I stroked her warm, firm flesh.
I pinched her nipple lightly, and once I got the
rubbery swelling reaction, dipped my hand down into her
pubes to tickle her clitoris, as I had done many times
before in my early morning bleariness and tumescence,
to remind her that, though no longer a young stud, this
was still a hot blooded male beside her, with desires
and needs. Not that Helen always took a lot of notice,
but just sometimes, on odd weekends or the thirty fifth
of the month, I got really lucky.
To my surprise and, need I say, joy, the old battleship
came alive and filled up with genuine sanguine liquid.
Within seconds, I was smiling. But now, the doubts
crept in: should I take full advantage of my condition?
The four sacred weeks were still running. There was a
tiny discomfort, as the blood flowed up slowly but
surely and stretched the skin of my dick for the first
time in a century. I felt a little soreness, but hell,
I didn't care about that; I was HARD again! And hard
again meant I could fuck again! Old George could go to
hell – if he wasn't already there.
I began to softly kiss and nibble Helen's shoulders and
lovely neck in a blatantly informative manner, whilst
my manual delving into her pubes became a bit more
adventurous. My fingers parted her soft, trimmed pussy
lips, then I slipped a digit inside, and after a few
moments' wriggling it around, I managed to produce some
worthwhile lubricity down there.
I heard her moan quietly, and she fidgeted as she began
to wake up, so I pressed my now rigid dick underneath,
up and into the hot, sweaty cleft of her ample, middle-
aged but still firm bum. I was full of doubt alright,
but my heart was racing as I began to test the
possibilities of proceeding further and consummating
this happy event.
Helen moaned again, and pushed her ass back against my
probing dick. At this stage, I wasn't sure whether it
was by way of objection, her acquiescence or just
annoyance, but I allowed myself to believe I was in
luck, and that it was a positive response to my clumsy
sexual overtures. I heard her mumble: "Are you sure
you're okay, Ken?"
My affirmative reply was to kiss her neck and shove my
hips forward again, further into her ass crack, as I
felt the blood flow stronger and the tingling in my
proud, reborn dick increase.
Here I was, I thought, approaching the unexpected but
longed for, habitual heaven again. My neck and shoulder
kissing activities increased, plus a flick of my tongue
into Helen's ear, and by now I was dipping two fingers
gently but faster into a well lubricated cunt. I
suspected Helen should by now be fully awake, so I made
my usual gesture for her to turn her body around
towards me, bringing my hand up to her shoulder and
pressing backwards.
No hesitation, she rolled over, threw a free arm around
my back to clasp my buttocks; I did the same and
pressed my open mouth to hers. Our tongues collided
fast and furiously. If we had stale morning breath,
neither of us cared, kissing like half-starved animals,
fighting to suck the other's tongue into the back of
the throat.
Our lower bodies also slammed together, my swollen cock
flat against her belly and her lovely breast cushions
against my chest. I drew my hips back enough to be able
to manouevre the tip of my twitching organ down between
her thighs and pressed forward and upward again,
touching her delighful cunt lips with the tip of my
cock. Overcoming the slight soreness I felt, I rubbed
my cock head there for a while, shunting my hips back
and forth against her now moistening pussy lips, before
thrusting harder, in an effort to gain entry.
Helen opened her thighs, lifted her free leg up under
my armpit, wriggled her ass to guide me. I pressed
forward with the tip of my now rigid cock; her slippery
pussy lips opened under pressure, and I was instantly
inside her hot, tight wetness. We both gasped with the
pleasure of the sudden, long overdue and very welcome
meeting of hard and soft, rigid and pliant, dry and
damp, urgent and obliging, flesh.
I pulled firmly with my hand on Helen's ass to increase
the depth of my cock penetration. Without finesse, I
banged hard into her dripping cunt, savouring at last
this inexplicable pleasure after such a long absence. I
thrust strongly and deeply, and my pace increased as we
continued to tongue wrestle, both of us mumbling
incomprehensible sounds into each other's throats. Oh
happy day!
As though this was not enough, Helen suddenly tore her
mouth from mine and burbled: "Quick, get on top, I need
you on top of me." With Helen, it was never hungry, out
of control; maybe we thought too much about it. But
this was as urgent as it gets, I thought. Throwing off
the sheets, she swung her free leg off me, was on her
back in an instant, her knees high and wide, head back
on her pillow, eyes closed.
Pausing only to admire her neatly trimmed bush and her
ample breasts now rolling over onto her ribs on each
side, I was straight up on my knees and my rigid dick
was sliding easily back inside her depths almost as
quickly, to continue my energetic pumping, slapping
rapidly in and out of her dampness. Helen's thighs
found their traditional position against my ears, legs
dangling over my shoulders, and my hands found their
traditional position around her breasts, rolling them
together, feeling the lovely weight of each of them
against my palms. My thumbs pressed on, and teased her
nipples. My eyes were fixed on their ample beauty.
Helen was always quick to come. And once she'd arrived,
she usually wanted to get me out of her as soon as
possible. She couldn't stand the eternal fuck like I
did. As I sensed Helen's cunt start to tighten in its
unique way, and her climax begin to build, I tried to
increase my piston pace to my sixty year old maximum.
It was only then that the doubts began to seep through
again. Helen had no need for such doubts; she was
almost there. Within a few brief seconds of my
momentary lapse of concentration, she was coming and I
knew it was going to be what she called "a big one". A
big one for Helen was a knee-jerking, body shuddering
orgasm, and it was a rare event. The three week drought
had obviously had some effect on her too, I was pleased
to see.
I watched her face contort in magnificent passion. Her
long, silky left leg began to spasm uncontrollably,
wide out, straight and way up above my head, the other
leg pressed down firmly on my shoulder, bringing her
pelvis up and off the bed. My cock almost slipped out
of her cunt, but I raised myself up higher on my knees
to thrust back in and regain contact; that last well
aimed thrust made Helen cry out and her climax washed
over her in several high waves.
It was the big one, the tsunami, you might say. The
trembling went on and on, and her moaning got louder as
I profited to the maximum by pumping harder. The leg-
jerking and then gasping lasted a full two minutes, and
I continued to drive into Helen, not knowing whether to
allow myself to spurt or not, not knowing if I could
spurt or not. Not knowing if anything would come out of
my cock-eye even if I did let it happen.
Helen's body began to calm down, her ass settled back
onto the bed, her legs slipped down to my waist, then
flopped flat onto the bed. Her moaning died away and
her rapid breathing eased off. I slowed down my
thrusting to a gentle pace. I looked with tenderness at
her lovely face, her eyes closed, her head to one side.
I was pleased she'd had a big one; they were rare
enough. But I also knew she was losing interest.
Perceptibly, my erection began to slacken. Exit left, I
thought. Also, I was thinking about the surgeon's
instructions again: no sexual activity for four weeks.
I was not going to ejaculate this time, I thought. I'd
just have to save it for another day. I allowed my body
to relax on top of Helen, unmoving, pressed my chest
against her wondrous cushions, found her mouth and
kissed her again, tenderly this time, our wet tongues
slipping together in post climactic saliva. Helen
always liked that long moment of tenderness after her
climax. Then I eased my diminishing erection out of her
hot moistness, lay down beside her, ran my hands gently
over her undulating belly and breasts, allowed her to
regain her calm.
As her breathing settled down, I heard her sigh and
mumble: "Are you alright Ken? D'you want to come?"
I reflected for a few seconds. "Not sure if I should,
maybe I should wait. I don't know." The doubts hung in
the air, as I lay on my side of the bed and my erection
faded half away. If I did, what would happen? Would I
suffer unimaginable and insupportable pain? Would I be
paralysed forever? Would I ejaculate blood? Would my
balls drop off?
Helen could be so understanding, despite her aversion
to multiple orgasms. "What do you think? Want me to
help?"
I was almost overcome by her sudden thoughtfulness. She
knew her man so well, she knew exactly what was needed
at that moment, that's the kind of woman Helen was. She
may be lacking adventure, but she knew how to please.
Shuffling around towards me, raising herself up on one
elbow, she reached over and placed her hand on my
belly, ran her long fingers through my sparse short
pubic hairs which had only just begun to sprout again
after the hospital.
My cock reacted to her touch; I caressed her neck and
shoulder, I relaxed and let the old organ fill up back
to full rigidity a second time. It felt too good. And
boy, I thought, a moment ago I had thought I was going
to come, if only Helen hadn't been so damned quick to
get hers. But that's Helen.
She continued to stroke my lower belly, then grasped my
taught organ in her oh-so-soft fingers, squeezed and
began to tease it in her own very special way, running
her finger tips lightly along its length, up to the
head and back to my pubes, then tickling underneath my
balls with her long nails, very slowly. All this
attention was guaranteed, normally, to get me quickly
enough into ejaculation mode, which would have been
perfect unto the day.
Helen disengaged herself from my continuing caresses,
raised herself up onto her knees beside me, not letting
go of my pulsing cock for an instant, and looked into
my eyes. I liked that look she gave me. I shuffled up,
now half sitting. She really was in a cooperative and
obliging mood this morning, I reflected. Her superb
breasts hung down and swung slightly towards me.
As she rubbed my dick, I noticed a glistening, clear
liquid had started to show at my cock-eye. False alarm?
I reached over and took a full, heavy breast in each
hand, enjoying the weight of them, the hard nipples
against my palms. I squeezed them lightly, very gently,
worshipping their shape and form.
The unspoken decision was made in that instant.
I laid back against my pillow, closed my eyes and
waited for that familiar, joyous pressure to build up.
I ran my hands over Helen's shoulders, up onto her neck
and face, caressing her in the tender way she liked, as
she did the one job she really knew so well how to do.
Her mouth dropped onto my belly, kissed me in butterfly
kisses, up onto my chest, where she teased my nipples
with her teeth. Her own nipples grazed against my belly
as she moved up and down again, then trailed my thighs,
as she continued to work the old engine with her closed
fingers.
I felt the tingling start to happen in that old
familiar way. I said nothing. I wanted Helen to take my
hardness into her mouth and lick, suck hard. She didn't
do that very often, but I knew she was in the mood to
please me today. On the other hand, aroused as I was
and ready to spurt, I couldn't help thinking about what
the surgeon had said. What would come out of the old
cock-eye, if and when I got there? Time to find out.
I felt the pressure increase down below, I relaxed, I
let it come. My balls quivered and contracted; my lower
body started to lift up as Helen worked her hand up and
down. I felt that surge of power which told me each
time I could conquer the world, and suddenly I was
coming. At long last, after a century and a half of
waiting, I was coming. I squeezed Helen's breasts hard,
the signal.
Helen firmed up her grip around the head of my cock,
squeezed more tightly and pumped faster, her other hand
cupping my taught balls, as she felt my hips jerk and
thrust upwards. Then, keeping her fist tight around my
cock, she stopped pumping as my climax started, eyes
fixed on my cock end, as though watching and waiting to
see what would happen next. She knew I was there at
last, but we both knew what the other was waiting for.
Helen's eyes were wide, glued to the end of my cock,
and I raised my head to do the same.
My cocked jerked and vibrated along its whole length, I
felt the old, old intensity of ejaculation. I felt the
head swell and vibrate, the violent pumping of sperm
from bottom to top, expected to see that familiar white
slippery liquid spurting forcefully out of my cock-eye
and over Helen's hand. But nothing came.
It was a dry climax, a totally dry ejaculation. An
ejaculation which yielded nothing but pleasure, no
ejaculate. But oh, the pleasure! All those strong
feelings of intense orgasmic pleasure that always had
been there, and that I was now convinced would always
be there. Until the end of the world. My head went back
and I began to tremble and at the same time laugh with
a feeling of total relief. Whatever my balls had
created in recent weeks, had been storing up and had
just ejected, was probably swishing around right now in
my bladder. But fuck, I didn't care where it went, as
long as I could come again!
Helen looked into my eyes, running her fingers again
along the still jerking rigidity of my cock, squeezing
the head, began to smile, then laugh with me. "There's
nothing coming out, Ken, just like the man said. But
how is it?"
I replied: "Yep. It's just like the man said. Nothing.
Dry as a bone, a total non-ejaculation. But sweetheart,
it's great!" Helen giggled and gave my wilting cock end
a last squeeze, making my lower body shudder with
belated, dry pleasure. She lay down beside me again,
let out a sigh, and we stayed hugging and kissing each
other for a while, her hand cupped over my shrunken
equipment. Then I said: "At least we'll save on kleenex
bills from now on".
We both laughed crazily for a full five minutes.
Chapter Six
Back to business... and pleasure... Mary... a dry old
fuck!
The following week, Mary called again to see where I
was on her proposed project, and my secretary arranged
a second discussion meeting. I had been thinking about
this little Canadian sexpot, but couldn't honestly
decide whether it was because of her delightful, plump
little body, her amazing cleavage, her soft face and
her pretty grey eyes, or because of my professional
interest in her very promising investment bonds, which
could be in danger of becoming a great seller amongst
some of my more courageous clients.
I came to the conclusion that this almost back-to-form
sexagenarian wasn't quite finished yet. There was more
fun to be had, and money to be made. In the time left,
business and pleasure in equal measures were my goals.
Mary came over late one afternoon, and it turned out to
be a very long and intense discussion in my office. I
made sure I wore one of my classiest grey business
suits, and I knew I looked good. I was out to impress.
I knew the body underneath was getting on a bit in
years and imperfect, but the external image was right
for now.
I had more or less decided to go for Mary's project,
but made the most of the meeting to have her go all
over it again in some detail, while I surreptitiously
admired her form. Her immaculate, softly curled hair,
her white blouse, grey suit and slim skirt, black
stockings and high heels made her appear every inch the
financial services professional. The several shirt
buttons undone at the top made her every inch the
seductress, and now and again I caught a glimpse of
pale, flawless breast-skin above a black lacy bra, as
she leaned over her files at the other side of my desk.
I noticed, too, that those wonderful mammaries were
bursting sideways as well as upwards, and began to
dream of holding my newly rediscovered erection deeply
between them. Now and again, too, I heard the sexiest
rustle of stockinged thighs as they rubbed lightly
together, and there was a light vanilla odour in the
air. Better than tobacco any day, I thought; I was glad
she was not a smoker.
I was enjoying this meeting, especially when Mary came
back from a brief excursion to the ladies room and made
me the gift of another superb view of her cleavage as
she bent over her papers. I couldn't help thinking that
just one more button would reveal all, as I saw again
the edge of her black satin bra peeking at me. I
couldn't help wondering if she'd done it on purpose,
then remembered what Mike had said about her being a
lesbian.
My interest was up, in more ways than one, when she
invited herself to dinner. That is to say, waving in
front of her face some sort of cereal bar and a bottle
of mineral water as her proposed evening meal was
hardly the thing for such a pretty, highly promising,
tasty looking young executive sales woman, so I felt
obliged to invite her to my favourite restaurant. Ever
the gentleman.
I'm not sure whether I really felt that this Mary Barry
so-called lesbian was up for seduction. Nor did I know
if I was up to the potential challenge if she was. But
at least I'd have the pleasure of her company for the
rest of the evening, and I knew she would stay with me
as long as it took her to get my signature on her
project. Just for the moment, future fuck or no future
fuck, I held the balance of power.
I phoned Helen to say I'd be late.
We left our cars in my private office parking spaces
and walked to the restaurant in the city centre. I knew
there would be no fuck-in-car this evening. Mary didn't
know yet, but 'Les Trois Canards' was the best French
restaurant in the city. And since the whole team of
directors and their staff were my clients, life
assurance, investments, pension plans and all, I knew
we would be looked after.
Mary admitted her lack of French culinary experience,
and left me to order the meal. I left Antoine, the
patron to select an appropriate wine, which he usually
did, and always a good one, on the house. One of the
advantages of getting close to clients.
As the evening progressed, as Mary and I tidied up the
last detailed steps of our new collaboration together.
I kept the brakes on for the time being. After a while,
I took off my jacket, and invited Mary to do the same;
it was a warm evening and I hoped it might relax her
just that little bit more. Jacket off, the view was
even better; the wine wasn't clouding my judgement, but
I loved what I saw more and more as we went along.
When the food had been mostly eaten, and there were the
dessert and dregs of wine to finish, we signed the
papers. Mary leaned back, and gave me the loveliest
smile, a wide, most seductive smile, her pale grey eyes
sparkling. I knew she was pleased with her achievement,
and I smiled back my own professional congratulatory
smile. I was congratulating myself as much as I was
Mary. 'Bravo, Ken,' I thought to myself.
Mary sighed deeply, drawing my now unabashed, open gaze
to her magnificent upper breasts popping out of her
blouse. I remarked once again how, not only did those
beauties bulge upwards, but seemed to be bursting at
the side seams of her blouse too. Those mammaries had
what it took to make an old many very, very happy. And
Mary knew exactly what she had to show; she knew I
couldn't keep my eyes off those wonder cushions, and I
began to feel more and more that the old seduction
routine might be under way. Hers or mine – I wasn't yet
sure.
I ordered two cognacs, invited her to call me Ken, and
we stopped talking business finally.
Then, after very little small talk, and to my surprise,
Mary started to ask what I knew about her sexuality. Or
rather what I thought I knew about her sexuality. She
just came out with it. I was taken aback at first. Mike
had told me a little while ago in Len's Bar a few
things he had heard or probably guessed about Mary. I
really knew no more, and was secretly quite pleased
when she made it clear that she was not just one way,
but both ways. Not lesbian, but bi-sexual. Aha, I
thought.
It was even more astonishing the way she looked
directly at me, now that there were no files and papers
to distract us and we were on first name terms. Those
pale grey eyes unblinking, leaning forward towards the
neutral centre of the dining table, giving me the best
view yet of her captivating bosom - if only I could
have torn my eyes from her gaze, I could have become
inebriated with that inspection.
She said something like: "You maybe heard that the girl
I was with at Len's Bar and I are lesbian lovers?"
Before I could formulate a reply, she carried on: "Well
yes and no... we are lovers but I'm not a lesbian.
Frankly, I enjoy both women and men, Mr. Lawson... Ken.
And I'd be very interested to know where you heard that
Ashley and I were lovers."
It's not been so very often in this business man's life
that I found myself stuck for words when talking to an
attractive woman. But right there, in that classy
French restaurant, looking over with ever-increasing
and less and less sneaky lust at what seemed to me the
sexiest and most desirable young woman I had seen for a
long time, I have to admit I was...well...stuck for
words. I looked down at my cognac glass warming in my
hands, trying to formulate a balanced reply. I opted
for a vague kind of comment. I chose badly.
"Well... Mary... I may be from a different generation
from yours, but what goes on between consenting adults
in private doesn't really concern me."
By the time the words were out, I was mentally kicking
myself to death and beyond for quoting something which
was so passé, and managing to sound like an elderly
citizen at one and the same time. Luckily, she was far
too young to know anything about the requirements to
satisfy the law on homosexuality as it might have
applied in the sixties.
I realised that since we had signed her contract on the
dotted line, this conversation was no longer under my
control. Mary had quickly gaining the upper ground, and
that was not a good sign. Any potential seduction, even
with my rediscovered sexual power, was in danger of
slipping away, I thought. I tried to stay zen.
Whilst inwardly wondering how I might have a chance of
finding out whether tonight was a 'man's' night or a
'lady's' night for Mary, or indeed, if she was in the
mood for any kind of fuck at all, I tried to maintain
my eternally professional poise by looking into her
eyes directly and smiling my winning smile, and I
waited.
"Perhaps your old friend Mike said something." I looked
quickly down at my cognac, then brought the bulb up to
my lips and sipped. "Anyway, you seem to be cool about
it, Ken." Kule, you bet I am, I thought.
Mary went on to explain what she referred to as her
attraction towards cerebral men and her especially
physical interest in women, although she made it clear
that sex on both sides was equally satisfying to her
with the right partner. I was fascinated, badly wanted
to ask all sorts of probing questions, but felt I
simply didn't know her well enough yet, and might even
be out of my depth, having pretty poor knowledge of bi-
sexual matters . Then she changed tack just as suddenly
as she had the first time.
"Listen Ken, you really do seem cool about what I just
said to you, and there's something else I'd like to
ask. I'd like to bet you get the same kind of thrill as
I do when you close a good business deal, am I right?"
I felt her twinkling eyes searching behind mine for my
story, so as my pulse went up a few degrees, I held her
intense gaze and answered her with my own question:
"What kind of thrill do you mean exactly, Mary? I mean,
business for me has always been exciting, it's what I
like doing. And the thrills got better once I set up my
own enterprise and knew that whatever I earned was for
me, that I wasn't working just to make someone else's
fortune." Mary's eyes seemed to become brighter.
"Yes, that, but I mean, does closing a profitable deal
give you a hard-on, Ken? I have a hard-on right now,
after concluding this great contract with you this
evening. The potential is enormous for me in commission
terms, and the fact of having wrapped it up with you
really does turn me on more than I can recall ever
before. Plus you just treated me to an excellent meal
in what must be the best restaurant in this city. That
makes the feeling more intense, don't you think?"
Wow! My pulse went up another notch, and my cock
started to twitch with the image of this delightful
little Canadian sales executive less than half my age
sitting right there with me, having a hard-on. And
talking about it in such a frank way. There, right
opposite me, across the table. I had no problem at all
calling up an imaginary picture of her young pudenda
and probably swollen clitoris under her slim business
grey skirt. I began to let my imagination go further,
way down, plunging into make-believe moistness. Maybe
this could be the start of something medium sized, I
thought. Who knows?
Mary looked unblinkingly into my eyes for what seemed
like hours before looking down and speaking again: "But
maybe you need to go, Ken, I'd guess there's probably
someone waiting for you at home."
I'd told her nothing about Helen during our many
exchanges, but for this bright young Mary it was not at
all unreasonable to assume I might have someone. She
paused, but I sensed that she might not want to let me
reply, to admit to Helen's existence. Without
hesitation, I followed her lead.
"Well, first I have to admit, yes, I get those
reactions during and especially after an important
deal. Yes, doing business has always given me a hardon,
as you say, and it's pretty astute of you to work that
out. As far as going home is concerned, well, first, I
need to take these papers safely back to my office, and
don't forget our cars are parked there."
As I made signals to the waiter to bring me the bill, I
couldn't help noticing Mary's look of disappointment.
Once I had signed for my credit card payment, I allowed
her my concentration once again, waiting for another
sign of her real intentions.
"Maybe I'll have an opportunity another time to thank
you for showing confidence in me, and in our new
investment plan. On the other hand, if you're not in a
hurry, and you have a bottle of something in your
office, maybe my chance to thank you may come a little
sooner. What do you say, Ken?"
I looked at her sort of quizzically, almost naïvely. I
felt a little flutter in my chest and a twitch in my
trousers, wondering if this was going in a direction
which had been unthinkable a couple of hours or so
before, in my office.
I pursed my lips, paused for just the diplomatically
appropriate instant, and replied: "I think I can
probably find something like a nightcap if that's what
you'd like, Mary."
We never opened the bottle. At least, not straight
away.
Before we even got back to my office, we found
ourselves kissing with unimaginable hunger in the
doorway of an estate agents office. At first, Mary
wanted to take a look at houses and apartments on offer
in the office window, but when she felt my erection
against the small of her back, she soon got the
message. She pushed back firmly, sashayed her body from
side to side a couple of times, then spun round, eyes
closed.
I soon had my hands clutching and squeezing Mary's
delicious, bulbous ass, as she stood high on tiptoe,
hung on to my neck and thrust her searching tongue way
into my mouth. I have to say: her enthusiasm for that
first, deep kiss really astonished me, given her youth
and my... well... maturity.
My cock was solid. We finally broke off kissing and,
with arms around each other's waists, we staggered on
wordlessly along the street, around to the rear,
private entrance of my office block. I slipped the
electronic card into the door, and once inside we
grabbed at each other again in the dark lobby and
continued deep kissing as though we'd both been without
sex for a very long time. In my case, it had been
several days since Helen had allowed her rare carnal
urges to come to the surface, so I was more than ready.
Mary's hands were around my waist, then squeezing on my
ass cheeks, then slipped around the front to take my
now throbbing cock in both palms outside my trousers,
rubbing them up and down its length, gently and slowly,
erotically. Meanwhile, I had finally got my hand onto
one of Mary's monstrous breasts outside her crispy
white blouse.
My hand was incapable of doing justice to its
dimensions, but I did my best to caress and squeeze it,
to bestow upon it the admiration of an eternal,
devouted breast-lover. Mary's breathing became ragged,
and she started to whimper into my mouth between
foraging of tongues.
Hoping none of my co-tenants were working late as we
passed in front of several closed office doors in the
glow of the emergency lighting, I managed to manoeuvre
us both up the stairs to my office suite, and finally
inside, where we simply ripped each other's clothing
off in double quick time, there in the reception area.
I made no effort to turn on lights, as the large front
office window was unprotected and our uninhibited
activities would have presented a very impressive X-
rated performance in cinemascope, for anyone who
happened to be looking our way at that particular
moment. The brightness from the security lighting in
the car-park outside enabled me to see what I needed to
see.
Very soon Mary was down to black satin bra and thong,
and thigh high stockings. Then the bra tumbled, and my
eyes were wide with pure lust as I unveiled Mary's
heavy, wondrous and firm breasts at last. After gazing
at them secretively, hidden by business clothes on
several occasions, now I finally had the opportunity to
take both beauties in my palms, there, standing up in
the middle of my office reception as we kissed. The
nipples were huge, and both reached up in the cool air.
I touched them with my thumbs, feeling their soft
rubbery hardness, making Mary whimper again. She
clearly had sensitive nipples.
My own clothes finished unceremoniously in a pile on
the floor, followed by Mary's thong. I let her keep on
the stockings, for erotic effect. Mary's hands were
busy too. She had one hand tight around the head of my
cock and was jacking it very gently, whilst her other
was cradling my balls as though they were made of pure
crystal.
I had momentary doubts about the attractiveness of my
ageing body to a young woman as stunning as Mary; even
in the half-light, I knew I couldn't pass myself for an
adonis, and I could suck in my abdomen for only so
long. I just hoped she wasn't going to say anything
about it, that's all. But there was no way I was going
to let those doubts stop me from profiting to the full
from this opportunity to make love with her. Maybe it
would be the last adventure of my hedonistic life, and
I wanted it to happen.
I had yearned to hold Mary's soft young body against
mine, and now was my chance at last. I knelt down in
front of her and pulled her hands towards me, intending
to fuck her there on the carpeted floor. But she leaned
forward, offering me her astonishing tits. They swung
in unison, magnetically down and towards me, and I
reached up with my mouth, to take a nipple between my
lips, sucking gently, then harder, enjoying the feel of
it almost filling my mouth. I switched to the other,
which was just as sweet, just as tasty, just as firm
and rubbery. I raised my hands and squeezed and
caressed her plump buttocks and then her thighs with my
palms as I suckled. Mary whimpered again, softly.
I let go of Mary's nipple, lowered my head and kissed
down her soft belly in tiny butterfly kisses, until I
arrived at her pudenda, finding that it was hairless.
Lovely, I thought, as the tip of my tongue flicked its
way down and around her pussy lips, then flattened out
to worship her labia. I felt Mary's lower body jerk and
heard a loud gasp, as my tongue thrust, opened up and
penetrated her cunt lips. Inside, she was very, very
wet, and tasted like honey. Within a few seconds she
was dripping abundant love juices
"Quick, let's go into your room! I need you to fuck me
on your desk. I've been thinking about it all evening."
Mary said breathlessly.
I realised that these were the first words to pass
between us since we came out of the restaurant, and
perfect for the occasion. Fucking Mary was exactly what
I wanted to do right now, and on my desk was just fine.
I stood up and allowed her to pull me gently by my
erection into my own office, watching her plump but
firm ass wobble before me in the half-light. She turned
and raised herself on tiptoe to sit on the very edge of
my executive oak desk. She opened her arms and legs
very wide and very invitingly. "Quick, come here, Ken,
come inside me!"
I was delighted to see that Mary was in as much of a
hurry as I was. As I stepped between her chubby thighs,
she raised them up to my waist level and I suddenly
remembered something. No-one had mentioned a condom.
Not for the first time in my life, I briefly thought of
possible consequences, as well as Mary's and my own
reputation, before giving in to the urge to fuck her
brains out.
Mary grabbed my aching cock in her fingers and guided
me towards her closely shaven cunt lips, rubbed it up
and down against the opening, then against her
clitoris, gasping, before loosing hold and letting me
take over. I eased the swollen head of my cock forward.
Mary's opening was so slippery with those honeyed love
juices, that my cock end slipped in easily. I paused
for effect, withdrew a tiny centimetre, then pushed
again, hard, until my entire cock was as deep as it
could be inside her vagina.
I sighed as I felt the heat and the wetness and the
slipperiness engulf my organ. Mary gasped out loud and
wrapped her arms around my waist and her calves around
my outer thighs, pulling me against her and eliciting a
similar gasp from me. Our mouths locked again, Mary
began sucking softly on my tongue.
I slipped my hands around onto her back, and now the
serious fucking could begin. Mary's arms went up around
my neck, as she pulled herself closer, lifting up her
ass from the desk and taking her weight on her legs
around my ass cheeks. Her lovely pillow breasts and
rigid nipples flopped and rubbed against my bare chest.
I began thrusting my tense, over-excited cock into her
sopping pussy hard and fast, high and deep, trying to
keep in rhythm with her bouncing bum. It was not so
easy; this was a very hot young woman indeed who seemed
in a terrific hurry to get where she was going. I knew
I was going to take a lot longer to get to the same
destination. That's age for you, I thought. But I was
going to enjoy it to the full.
I was right, within less than two minutes, Mary ripped
her mouth from mine and let out a snarl, then fastened
her open mouth over my entire ear. I heard deafening
gulps of air inside my ear and felt the wetness of her
tongue plunging deep into my ear cavity as she started
to come. I felt her cunt lips start to contract and her
ass cheeks bounced up and down on the desk with
incredible rapidity.
I was not yet at the point of no return, and increased
my thrusting to the maximum I was capable of, fucking
for all I was worth. Mary let out another snarl in my
ear and her whole body jerked violently in the throes
of her orgasm. Her calves tightened around my ass and
she pulled me deep into her with surprising strength,
clutching my neck with her arms and pressing her
breasts-to-die-for hard against my chest.
I continued to pump my cock into Mary's deliciously
hot, moist depths, but I knew I wasn't ready to come
yet. I reached between our bodies and caressed a
gigantic breast, switched hands and played with the
other one, weighed it in my palm.
I pumped and pumped, slowly and deeply into her
wondrous heat, before Mary must have sensed my
reticence to arrive at a climax. She kissed me slowly,
with a certain tenderness, making MMMMM noises all the
time as I slid my cock in and out. After a few minutes,
as though she knew I wasn't getting there, she
whispered: "Let me..." and pressed her hands against my
chest.
My juice covered cock slipped silently out of her hot
cunt. Jumping down off my desk, she dropped to her
knees in front of me, took my solid, aching cock in her
hand and began sliding it wetly along its rigid length
again, aided by the residue of love juices from her own
vagina. "Up on the desk," she said, looking up into my
face, taking control now. Her pale grey eyes sparkled
in the dim light, and I could see that she was smiling
seductively and determined to please.
I sat up, bare assed on the edge of my own executive
oak desk and I let Mary take over. It was probably the
best single blow job I had ever had in my life. That
vision of Mary the beautiful young, very young sales
executive, naked, kneeling before me between my open
thighs, her pale and soft bare breasted body vibrating,
her bright eyes fixated on my pulsing, rigid cock as
she jacked her soft hand up and down, is something that
I'll never forget. And the rest, as she began to lick
my tingling cock-eye with the tip of her tongue, and my
body jerked with pleasure. She did it again, and I
jerked again and gave out non-verbal noises as positive
approval of what she was doing for me.
Mary ran her wet tongue the whole length of my organ,
down to my balls, licking underneath for several
minutes, whilst her soft young hands caressed my inner
and outer thighs and slid up over my belly and higher,
to tweek both my nipples. She slipped a finger behind,
up into my ass cheeks, searching for my hole, scratched
it gently with a finger nail. I groaned, felt the urge
to ejaculate start to mount. Then I thought for the
first time this evening about my capacity for non-
ejaculation. Mary was in for a surprise, I realised.
It was too late to speak, too late to break the magic
of this lust-filled and intense moment with this young
Canadian. A dreamed-for tit fuck would have to wait, I
thought. I let her have her wicked manual way with me.
I reached down and took both Mary's breasts in my
palms, feeling the heavy weight of them. I tweeked her
nipples, making them hard again, making her respond
with a soft moan, now muffled by my cock head between
her soft lips, sucking ever so lightly. I felt the tip
of her tongue again teasing my cock eye. I asked myself
if she wondered why there were no seminal leakings
already for her to taste, tried to put the thought out
of my mind.
The only important thing now was to come. To come for
the first time in a woman's mouth without ejaculating a
single drop of semen. Helen hadn't got herself into the
right mood yet for such an adventure after my
operation, but in any case, she was not the best blow-
jobber in the universe, not even one of life's regular
enthusiasts. But now, I was to have a very first dry
blow job, and it was pretty little Mary who was going
to bestow the gift upon me.
Sucking on the head of my cock and jacking the rest
with a warm, small fist whilst cradling my bursting
balls with the fingers of her other hand, Mary excelled
in the art of oral sex. More than once, she eased off
almost imperceptibly, as though to impede my rising
climax, just as though she was dictating the pace and
it was she who would decide the exact moment when I
would be allowed to come.
I lovingly caressed her neck and naked shoulders,
placed my hands on her cheeks, tickled her ears. Then,
to signal my approaching need, I pulled her head
forward gently, and began to press my cock forward and
back in her hot mouth. She sucked harder and moved her
head faster with my own rhythm, as I fucked her face.
Until I went over the edge.
Mary didn't need me to tell her I was coming; a woman
with these advanced oral skills knows it all. She
sucked and sucked and jacked, and didn't let up until I
exploded. That eternal, world conquering pressure came
up from the depths of my balls, up through the length
of my cock and out of the expanded cock head.
I knew it was going to be an empty discharge, but the
pleasure was as real as it had ever been, as intense as
I had ever felt it. My cock throbbed and jerked
violently in sweet Mary's mouth, and she hung on,
sucking for all she was worth, jacking my rod, causing
my whole body to tremble.
My chest was thumping overtime. My head came down, my
hips thrust forward and back rapidly, as though I was
fucking a cunt, not a mouth. My fingers dug into Mary's
shoulders and I gasped loudly several times as my body
jolted and I enjoyed the feeling that I always used to
get in the old days, that false impression of several
pints of seminal fluid leaving my cock eye, all the
time knowing that my secret was out.
Mary had just felt her aging lover climax in a big way
with my taught, vibrating cock planted in her more than
willing oral cavity, and now she would surely be
wondering about the novelty of it all, wondering why
the hell she didn't have a mouthful of warm, slippery
love juices, why there was nothing for her to taste and
feel sliding down her throat.
Well, I knew it was too late to do anything else; I
just waited, as I came down from what was probably the
best orgasm I'd had in some considerable time, waited
for a reaction. Mary's soft and skilled mouth clung on
to my shrivelling cock, as though by sucking a little
more something might appear, as though some of that
magic substance she was surely used to tasting might
dribble out if she flogged it enough. All it did was
drain more dry, grateful pleasure from my cock end,
until there was no more pleasure left to drain.
When my successive fading mini-orgasms had ceased, Mary
finally stopped sucking, let my now flaccid cock out of
her mouth, and sat back on her haunches; her head was
down and she was shaking it from side to side. I knew
it was in disbelief.
"What's going on here, Ken?" she asked, incredulously
but yet with a certain amused curiosity in her tone.
"You just came – didn't you? You just came, and
yet...nothing came, right? I just gave you a blow job
right to the end, and nothing...came out. How did you
do that? Is this some kind of tantra you're doing
here?" How trans-atlantic, I thought, Mary's delightful
way of expressing herself.
I smiled inwardly at her disbelief, at her reference to
tantra. So I leaned forward, cupped her face with my
hands and smiled into her eyes. "Come up here, Mary,
and I'll explain." I pulled her up by her hands, and
Mary nestled her warm, naked body between my open
thighs, pressed her belly against my genitalia and her
wonderful breasts against my lower chest.
Her hands went around my back, and settled on the top
of my buttocks, caressing lightly with her finger tips.
I kissed her again with all the tenderness I could
muster, ran my tongue around her lips, then inside, to
savour her warm wet mouth, the mouth which had lavished
so much attention on my ageing cock just a few seconds
before. I tasted myself and her on her mouth.
Finally Mary pulled back a little. I said what I needed
to say: "Mary, that was probably the best oral sex I've
had in a very long time." (I chose my words carefully;
didn't want her to think she was that good).
Then I began to explain, all the time caressing her
face, her silky neck, her smooth shoulders, her
astonishingly full and heavy breasts, all bared before
me. As I talked, I ran my hands to her waist, around to
caress her full buttocks, then over her belly. She
pulled away to allow me to run my hand down into her
shaved pudenda, lightly running my fingers along her
still moist love slit.
As I did this, Mary shivered, closed her eyes, tilted
her head back and moaned quietly, absently, as though
she wasn't listening. But I knew she heard what I was
saying. Her hands came around onto my thighs and
slithered along from knee to groin as I was talking. My
cock began to fill up again, very slowly. She held it
like a growing butterfly in her fingers.
When I had said enough, all I needed to explain, the
bare bones so to speak, I stopped talking and waited,
looking at her dreamy face. After a moment, Mary opened
her pale grey eyes again and looked back at me, as
though reflecting deeply on the content of my lengthy
discourse, almost as though she was questioning the
veracity of it all. I knew that this would be something
quite new to her, despite her obviously extensive,
though youthful sexual experience. She needed a minute
or two to weigh it all up. I gave her time.
"So, if I understand you right, Ken... since this
operation, you can get it up, you can fuck like a stud
of thirty or maybe forty... you can come in a big
way... but there's none of that messy, slippery,
creamy, salty, delicious stuff that we women adore at
the end of it all. Nothing to swallow, is that right?"
I nodded. "That about sums it up, Mary" was all I could
say.
There was a long pause.
I could almost hear her brain ticking over like a
clockwork orange, almost knew what her next words were
going to be before they were formed; I knew exactly
what was coming next.
"Well, I guess you'll save on kleenex."
We both fell apart laughing; the tension was suddenly
eased for both of us. Mary was delectable when she
laughed like that.
Mary finally slipped away in the half light, her
breasts, shoulders and wonderfully rounded ass all
shaking with laughter. She retrieved our clothes from
the reception office and soon came back. As she
dressed, I watched her all the time, admired her soft,
plump body. I saw her pour those stunning breasts back
into her flimsy black satin bra, saw her pull up her
matching thong to nestle into her cunt lips, saw her
generous curves disappear inside her crisp white
business blouse and slim skirt.
Finally, I watched as she tidied her thigh-high
stockings and slowly smoothed them up over her pale,
solid legs. All the time, she seemed distracted and
thoughtful, and didn't look at me or speak for several
minutes. That was understandable. I left her alone with
her thoughts.
I quickly threw on my own crumpled business clothing,
covering my not-so-young but indestructible frame.
Satisfied and feeling on top of the world, I reached
for the bottle of best malt whisky and glasses I always
kept in my desk drawer.
"Ah, the nightcap at last," Mary finally said, smiling
broadly as I placed the glasses on the desk and poured
out the golden liquid.
This had been quite a day. For both of us.
THE END
All comments welcome: tallman034@aol.com
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 54