From zanna@whoever.com Wed Mar 12 16:51:49 1997
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From: zanna@whoever.com (Joyce Melton & Morgan Preece)
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Subject: Imagine My Surprise II {Morgan Preece} [Mf]
Date: Wed, 12 Mar 1997 21:51:49 GMT
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This story is intended for the entertainment of adults only. 
If you are under 21 please stop reading immediately. If you 
are offended by strong adult-oriented themes, explicit sex, 
erotic fantasy or vulgar language, what are you doing here?

Copyright (C) 1997 by Morgan Preece. All rights reserved. Permission
is granted for non-commercial use of this complete and unaltered text
in electronic form such as posting to EBBS's or Newsgroups or free
access Electronic Archives. Electronic storage of unaltered copies for
personal use is also permitted. No permission is given for any
distribution (including Email) to minors or other persons to whom
distribution would be illegal. No commercial use or hardcopies without
written permission from the author. 

Inquiries and comments are welcome, fanmail is the only feedback a
newsgroup author gets. Email may be addressed to the author at
ZANNA@WHOEVER.COM. Enjoy.

===========================================================


Imagine My Surprise


by Morgan Preece




Imagine my surprise to find myself fantasizing about my teen-age
lover.

***

I knew Nona had sucked other cocks before mine. She licked it
playfully behind the head, stroked it with thumb and fingers around
the barrel, teased the tip with her lips. All the while she kept
looking up at me, her jade-green eyes smiling when her mouth could
not. She made silly, childish noises of enjoyment.

She took me deep into her mouth, the back of her tongue squeezing me
against her palate. Candace would have gagged, not that I thought of
her at that moment. Nona's mouth opened wider as she worked at taking
all of me into her mouth. I'm not exceptionally long but I've been
told that I'm wide and thick. I was certainly hard.

I played with that silver and gold mane of hers, standing there in my
Bruno Magli's with my pants around my ankles. I gently squeezed her
earlobes, tugged on her earrings. I push-pulled her head against me as
she rocked back and forth on her heels. I shuddered as the tension
crested in my back and thighs and groin. I breathed through my teeth
as I came, pumping jism into Nona's laughing face.

"Jee-zus, doesn't Candace ever suck you off?" She picked a towel from
what I hoped was a pile of clean clothing. She wiped half a cup of cum
from her chin, her breasts. She paused momentarily, posing with a cum
mustache before she licked it off.

"Not like that," I gasped. Candace, my wife of 13 years, thinks of
oral sex as something kinky done by couples who lust for one another,
not something done by middle-aged married types. She doesn't put her
heart in it anymore, it's hard enough to get her to put her face in
it. 

Nona finished wiping herself, then she wiped my groin, and helped me
out of my shoes and pants and shirt. The discarded clothing joined
other piles of clothing on the floor. I gave no further thought to it.
Naked, with Nona naked also, I almost came again just looking at her
and feeling my own nakedness.

Standing in front of me, her hands played with the grizzled fur of my
chest. I cupped one of my hands behind her neck, balancing her head in
my palm as she relaxed into my touch. She smiled one of her
off-center, teen-age smirks, "You're not bad looking for a guy your
age." Her green eyes danced with amusement.

I had my other hand on her chest, thumb making circles around the
little, wrinkled berry of her nipple. "Is that supposed to be a
compliment?" I asked, a little stung. At 55, I lacked only a few
months of being three times her age.

"Mm-mm." She pulled herself into me, wrapping her arms around my
chest, running her thumbs along my shoulder blades, murmuring in my
ear, "Say something sweet."

"I want you." I tangled one hand in her hair and cupped the other
around one of the globes of her butt. It fit perfectly, a warm, soft,
firm weight in a silky smooth wrapper. "I want you, a lot."

"Well, Du-uh! That's fucking obvious," she giggled. With my cock
pressed against her taut stomach, she could feel the return of my
lust. "Tell me why you want me," she whispered.

"Because," my blood-deprived brain struggled for something to say.
"Because you're the most desirable woman in the world, why shouldn't I
want you? Every other man must want you, too." I felt proud of that
one.

"I'm not pretty, prez," she said. "I'm scrawny, my teeth stick out and
my boobs don't."

I kissed the top of her head, then lifted her face and kissed her on
the lips. Her big jade eyes looked into my brown ones as we kissed.
"You're beautiful, Nona," I said. "Your eyes, your hair, your
skin...." I knew I sounded like a fool.

She sighed, smiling as we stepped sideways toward the bed. "You're a
beautiful liar, prez."

We made love with her on top. I prefer this because I'm built like an
over-the-hill wrestler, thick and heavy, like my dick, I guess. If I'm
on top, I worry about hurting my partner with my weight. She couldn't
have gone more than 110 pounds if all that hair had been soaking wet.

First she straddled my head and I licked and played with her pussy
until she got wet. Her muscular thighs held her easily above my face.
I teased with my tongue and invented nibble games with my lips. Her
juices began to flow when my thumb found her asshole as my tongue
thrust against her clit. She tasted clean and sweet and young.

She moved down to my groin, guiding me inside her while she smiled her
off-center smile, a dreamy one this time. Her box felt tight around
me. We watched each other's faces while she set the rhythm, now slow,
now fast, now slow again as she worked to postpone my climax.

"You like'em young, prez?" she asked. The teal-tipped nails of her
right hand played with her cupcake breasts while the peach-tipped left
teased her lips. She pulled at the lower one, already slightly heavier
on the left side, part of her asymmetric charm.

What could I say? "Yes," I managed. "You like them old?" I had both
hands on her thighs and squeezed them gently.

She giggled then broke her rhythm bending to kiss me, her lips soft as
butter, warm as toast. "Uh-huh," she murmured. "Grizzly old farts with
lots of money turn me on," she teased.

I hoped she meant grizzled, not grisly, but I couldn't answer back.
Doubling her pace she brought me to the edge of that separation from
self, that animal gulf, that sweet oblivion that gives meaning to
existence. Then she slowed again, almost still, but each laggard
movement became an excruciating thrust of pleasure that John
Mellenkamp might have been singing about.

She dangled me above the abyss for a while, then with five quick
movements of pelvis against pelvis, flesh to flesh, I came into her,
hugely, gigantically. I seemed to have emptied myself into her pussy,
even my mind left me at my climax. Good sex is always crazy-making.

Sanity returned momentarily as we lay against one another. For the
first time I considered that we had used no protection. I didn't get
much time to think about it. Nona sat up, swapped around to the 69
position. "Finish me off, lover," she moaned, waving her pussy in my
face.

I took my time bringing her to orgasm with lips and tongue and fingers
while she used her mouth to clean me up and give me incentive. I
played my little nibble games again then used my tongue to make a
rhythm of fast then slow, hard then soft. This time we climaxed
together though I don't remember actually getting that hard. Three
times in less than two hours must have been some kind of
accomplishment at my age, anyway. Later, I found a hickey on the
inside of my thigh.

We lay for a time spooned together, her slender youth inside my bulky
age. I felt protective. Damn it, I had begun to feel uncomfortably
fatherly when she spoke after a long silence.

"This isn't my place," she said, quietly. She still smelled of musk,
ours now, not the bottled kind. Girl musk, rutty old man musk,
Triple-X Brand, don't-try-this-at-home musk. Spent as I was, the smell
of her still intoxicated me.

"I hadn't thought it was," I finally said, sober enough. The apartment
reeked -- literally -- of college bachelors. The only things that
seemed to belong to Nona were right here in this room, a small pile
hardly larger that the pile of my own things. A salmon case too big
for carry-on luggage and a smaller overnighter the color of her eyes,
both partially buried under the dress she had been wearing when she
met me at the door.

"I can stay until they get back, but...." She left it hanging. She
didn't finish it, she didn't need to. The slobs who lived here must be
panting around Nebraska or Stockton or El Centro or wherever the hell
they had gone. They must be howling at the moon thinking about what
they had waiting for them when they got back. I wanted to knock their
heads together.

"What happened to your place?" I asked. We had made love with the
lights on and I lay there looking at the world through a hazy blonde
cloud of her hair. My arms were around her, her breath warm on the
back of my right hand.

She shrugged against me. The simple movement seemed sensual, somehow,
but everything about her seemed sensual. Her whispery voice sounded so
sexy I almost forgot what she was talking about. "I can't go back. I'm
just glad I never married him. I won't marry you either, prez. Even if
you divorce Candace."

I didn't know whether to feel relief or depression. I changed the
subject. "My name is Frank," I murmured.

She giggled. "I know. Frank Love of Love Electronics, what a howler."
She sighed and wriggled closer to me. "I got fired, or rather laid off
today."

"We'll fix that," I promised.

"No. They don't need me after the holidays and I'm a shitty
receptionist, anyway. They marked my file DNR, do not re-hire. Mrs.
Cooper told me so." She said it matter-of-factly, like a traffic
report.

I pulled her closer. I muttered something meant to be comforting but
was probably only inane.

"I dropped out of school at fifteen, ran away from home. Never mind
why," she spoke more quickly now. "You notice my face is kinda
lopsided? I had an -- accident when I was younger. I got like mental
problems." She laughed, "So I've got an excuse for being such a
fucking flake, see?" She paused.

Finally she asked, "Prez?" I had said nothing.

"I'm listening, baby," I reassured her.

"Okay," she sighed. I felt her tense in my arms. "So, like, you've had
a sample of the only thing I'm really good at." I couldn't see her
expression but she did take a deep breath. 

She went on. "I mean, I'm must be stupid or something. As long as it's
just talking, or something, y'know, physical I'm fine. But a lot of
reading or writing or damn numbers...." Her shoulders moved again, not
a shrug this time. "I made such a fucking hash of that phone board."
Her laugh had a hitch in it. 

"One thing, I know," I said. "You're not stupid. You wanted me, you
got me. We'll work something out." I had already started thinking.
When you have the kind of money I have been making lately, real estate
looks mighty nice, taxwise. I had picked up a couple of apartment
buildings cheap during the bad times of the Orange County bankruptcy.
A management company handled renting them out for me but I could find
out quickly if there were any vacancies. If there weren't, I'd think
of something else.

She lay quietly for a while, giving me time to think. That's what I
meant about her not being stupid. I thought about a lot of things. I
thought about being manipulated by a young golddigger. I thought about
lots of great, spicy, slightly guilty sex. I thought about what she
might have been doing for the last three years. I thought about having
a mistress and keeping it from Candace. I thought about selling my
company and taking that early retirement. I thought about a world
cruise. I thought about death and disease and divorce lawyers.

"Prez? Frank?" she said suddenly. "It's late, you'd better go home to
Candace." She rolled away from me. Smiling, she lay in the same
position she had when I entered the room, head on one hand, legs
parted just enough to display blondish bush, teeny-bopper tits partly
hidden by her hair.

I'd been thinking so long and so hard, and she'd been so quiet I
thought she'd gone to sleep. She kept proving that she was smarter
than me whatever may have gone wrong in her skull. My watch showed
that one o'clock had come and gone. All the thinking I'd been doing
and not one thought for the time.

We lingered over kisses while I got dressed. "Prez?" she murmured,
sleepy now. The most changeable woman I ever met, she had become a
drowsy child. I felt my desire stir again but I forced it down.

"I'll call you tomorrow," I promised. Tomorrow was Saturday but I
usually went into the office on Saturdays, anyway.

She followed me down to turn the bolt and we kissed again in the
doorway. I wore my wrinkled business clothes and she wore her
nakedness like an unashamed child.

Halfway home to Irvine I realized I was humming a song that seemed to
have her name in it. "No-No-No--na-No-Nona! Noh-na-ah!" I sang
tunelessly. "It's a mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up world! 'Cause of
Nona!" Clapton couldn't hear me anyway.

***

Candace really did have the flu, and I managed to escape the house
early Saturday without telling any lies. A quick call to my management
company confirmed that we had a vacancy in the Vista Catalina
Apartments in Huntington Beach. I drove over to take a look at the
third-floor one bedroom with sundeck, unfurnished, half a mile from
the beach and the downtown shops. On a clear day from the corner of
the sundeck, you probably could see Santa Catalina Island. With three
or four clear days a month, the view added $100 a month to the rental.

A small apartment, "cozy" the rental ad might say, but it seemed big
enough. Sliding glass doors from the sundeck opened into one end of
the living room. A door at the other end next to the kitchenette lead
out to the backstairs and down to the underground parking. The bedroom
was large enough for a king-size bed and the bathroom had a large tub.

I stood outside on the redwood planks and leaned against the gray
painted railing. I could barely make out the shape of the island in
the mixture of sea mist and the smog blown down from LA. I imagined
moving Nona into the apartment. She had no furniture so I would have
to buy or rent that for her also. Groceries, utilities, phone, cable
TV, how would she pay for them? Clothing, too, she couldn't have that
much in those two pitiful bags.

I have to admit, my dick got hard thinking about her being dependent
on me for those things. Stupid piece of meat has no brains at all. I
wanted to do this. I wanted to see her face light up at the hardwood
floors, the view, the furniture I would buy her, the big-screen TV,
the satin sheets on the bed, the closet full of sexy clothes.

I pictured her sunning on the deck. Wispy little green bikini barely
covering her while she waited for me to sneak over from my Newport
Beach office. She might sunbathe nude, she hadn't had any tan lines
last night. Maybe she would play with herself in the warm sun. Rubbing
her little breasts with the teal-tipped hand while the peach-colored
nails played in her bush. Sighing and moaning while she warmed herself
up for my visit.

Of course, I would always bring her something, clothes, jewelry, a
catered dinner. And she would make some wise-ass remark, tease me
about being old or something. Then we would make love on the big old
couch with Morrison and the Doors playing our anthem. She would be
sexy and grateful and loving and I would be horny and generous and
caring. God, would I be horny.

Crazy stuff, I thought. Mid-life crisis bullshit, what had gotten into
me? I tried to think about going to work and getting something done.
The image of Nona in the green dress filled my memory of the office.
Her sassy, off-center grin and the lilting purr of her voice made fun
of everything I had worked for. The big boys wanted my four assembly
plants, my warehouse, my offices. Thirty million for me and they
takeover all my loans, payoff my silent partners with stock.

Nona intruded on my thoughts again. Standing at the door of that
pigsty to kiss me good-bye late that previous night, or rather, very
early that very morning, she had pressed her naked body against me
turning soft, drowsy lips up to me. Lips that had but lately given me
an expert blowjob.

How did a teenager get that good at cocksucking? I thought I must know
but I didn't want to think about it. I couldn't think about it with
wanting Nona so much. We would use rubbers from now on till I got her
checked out, medically. I'd get her moved into this little lovenest
then....

"Hold up, Frank," I told myself. "You're treading dangerously near the
edge of obsession here." I think I must have said it out loud because
a crow in the eucalyptus tree next to the sundeck gave me a dirty look
and cawed a warning to all his crow buddies. "Look out for the crazy
man talking to himself on the balcony of 203." Yeah, right.

I felt my control slipping further. I wanted to laugh at the idea of
talking to crows, laugh at a man in his fifties planning how to take a
teenage mistress. I wanted to laugh at the thick, balding electronics
executive's hard-on for the left-handed girl with the jade eyes and
the dubious past. 

I took a deep breath of air that smelled of the winter sea. I shook my
head, trying to clear my mind of distraction. 

What should I do about Nona? Should I move her into Vista Catalina?
Should I sell my company, run away from home, take a world cruise? How
could I arrange to fuck Nona on this sundeck and how was I ever going
to get back to my car if I kept thinking of things like that? Should I
jackoff here on the sundeck or go inside and use the bathroom like
someone at least half-sane?

{to be continued}